The Asset
by ALDN
Summary: AU - Hermione is an agent with the British intelligence service, and she's just been assigned as handler to a new asset; Bellatrix Black.
1. Chapter 1

When she received the official, unofficial, 'tap on the shoulder' at the age of twenty-two, the future which flashed through Hermione's mind did not resemble her current reality.

She was twenty-seven, perpetually exhausted, and spent most evenings in her dimly lit London apartment surrounded by case files, a selection of plants all in various stages of despair, and a scattering of long forgotten cups and glasses. Hermione had graduate top of her year at King's College, having studied Russian and Politics whilst simultaneously developing the slight malaise towards her peers which would, undetected at first, continue to spread as she progressed through her years.

She should have predicted, in hindsight, that her particular academic achievements would make her a prime candidate for the British intelligence agencies, Mi5 being the one to eventually tempt her with their promises of challenging, tangible work. _Important _work. An offer pretty hard to resist, even for a woman who was perpetually a little suspicious of those who wished to utilize her brain for a purpose she was never entirely privy to.

On this particular evening, Hermione was sat on the window seat of her King's Cross apartment, watching the city anonymously tick along beneath her. Her five years of service had taught her to observe potential risks in every interaction, but the glass of wine currently cradled in her hand had provided a gentle graininess to those thoughts as she pondered all the potential ways in which the people rushing around below her might end up being a case file in her inbox tomorrow morning.

It's not that Hermione didn't like her job - it certainly had its moments. However, the longer she was dragged through the continuous churn of threats and retaliations, the more she felt that familiar sense of boredom creep in. The line between good and bad, whilst certainly not clear before, was now even murkier. She'd said as much during her yearly review with her boss, Minerva McGonagall. As usual, this was met with a tense couple of minutes of appraising silence, whereby Hermione shifted awkwardly in her seat and fleetingly panicked that this was finally the moment her lack of diplomacy would lead her to a lengthy secondment to the Archival Unit.

Luckily, Minerva's unreadable expression morphed into a tight but amused smile, which was then followed by a brief nod as she stood up and breezed towards the table which sat beneath a large window. Hermione watched as Minerva poured two glasses of water, and marched back towards her. "Yes, I rather expected this. I've noticed a bit of a... dip, in the quality of your reports lately -". Hermione felt herself move to express her indignation at such a comment, but was silenced by a raised eyebrow. "Now that's not to say your work isn't still of the highest quality, Miss Granger. It's more of a comment on the subject area you're currently assigned to. Intelligence analysis is an interesting and dynamic environment, but I believe that you require something a little more... stimulating, to really give you the opportunity to excel.".

Hermione watched as Minerva moved her chair back slightly, allowing herself access to the tablet that sat in her desk drawer and moving her reading glasses from around her neck and placing them on the bridge of her nose. Hermione cringed slightly, once again holding back comment as she watched her boss struggle to navigate the sensitive touch screen. Several minutes passed in silence until eventually Hermione felt her work phone vibrate slightly in her suit pocket. Before she had chance to reach into her jacket, Minerva began talking again.

"I recently had a request through from the Asset Unit. They were looking for a particularly resilient individual with a background in Russian and ex Soviet state politics. Obviously I am resistant to give you up, but they have assured me that you'll be returned after the twelve month placement is up.". At this pause, Hermione had suddenly realized that her face had morphed into a particularly excited expression, and she struggled to mask it with the look of neutrality which was so favoured within the agency. Minerva had caught this, and given her the slightest smirk.

"As I thought. I'd like you to complete any outstanding reports and have them submitted by the end of the week. You'll start your secondment in two weeks time, at the start of July. I suggest you use the time in between to thoroughly review the case file I've sent you, and to ensure you're fully rested. The Asset Unit is certainly going to give you the opportunity to develop yourself.".

And with that, Hermione made a swift exit before Minerva could, once again, ask her why she hadn't yet RSVP'd to the next departmental networking lunch.

Hermione had heard whisperings of the Asset Unit throughout her time with Mi5. Within the agency, it was known for its closed ranks and sensitive work. As far as she could ascertain, it's main aim was to procure and handle high risk sources; people who had previously been on the opposite side of the law, and for various reasons now found themselves under the control of Mi5. Asset Handlers were themselves a source of great mystery too, with many telling tales of a friend of a friend of a friend who once worked for the Unit and found themselves hauled up on the outskirts of a Colombian mafia den for the best part of a year. However, never one to trust hearsay, Hermione pushed these thoughts out of her mind.

She would approach this new role like she did everything else in her life; logically, meticulously, and a little bit obsessively. So, Hermione continued staring out of the window of her apartment, absent-mindedly swishing the red liquid inside her glass around and around. Her leg lay folded beneath her with her work tablet balancing on top, safely rigged up to the Wi-Fi which had been installed by the agency the week she moved in. The fact that she remained under the watchful gaze of work even within the cocoon of her own apartment made something tightly locked away at the back of her mind prickle slightly. Hermione took another sip of wine as she dragged her eyes away from the anonymous couple caught in a passionate, and somewhat inappropriate, embrace outside the pub across from her house. Shaking her head slightly, as if to clear the mild fog that had settled over her thoughts, she picked up her tablet and began to scroll her way through the case file of the woman that would be her primary focus for the next twelve months.

Bellatrix Black, forty-two, born in England, raised in Russia. All biological family deceased or untraceable. Arrested and charged by the British government for arms trafficking and sentenced to twenty-five years imprisonment. Having served twelve years, she had entered into an agreement with Mi5.

A picture of a younger Bellatrix lay nestled in between the reams of pages laden with the details of her extensive criminal past, as well as a multitude of psychiatric assessments from agencies across Europe. Hermione has been raking over this report for weeks now, and was certain that in two days time when she reported to her new line manager, she would be able to recite the whole thing from memory. She would be spending the first week of her new position undergoing extensive inductions and training, and then, finally, she'd be allowed to meet with her new asset. Hermione briefly mulled over the linguistic complexities of referring to human beings as "assets", but decided this particular moral debate was something she needed to drop down the list of her current priorities.

Distracted again by the amorous couple now sheltering themselves from the rain under a shared coat, Hermione drained the last of her wine and dragged her attention back to the patchwork timeline she had before her.

* * *

"Bellatrix, as much as I'm desperate to hear your thoughts on the many downfalls of _How To Catch A Killer_, I'm a little more concerned about getting you out of this meeting with all your limbs intact and a nice report on where next week's drop is expected, okay?".

Having finally untangled the earpiece from the microphone - everyone in this department seemed incapable of putting things away correctly - Hermione turned around to face a bored looking Bellatrix who was casually leaning back against the mismatched chair that lay slumped in the corner of the safe house. Her hair hung in loose, disorganized curls, dancing along the line where her shirt lay partially open against her pale chest. Bellatrix had paused in her inspection of a particularly troubling split end to scowl at Hermione's refusal to engage in her bored distractions.

"Fine then. Pass those here."

Without waiting for a response, Bellatrix stalked across to Hermione and grabbed the ear piece and microphone, smirking when Hermione rolled her eyes as the newly de-tangled wires once again knotted together.

"It's not like the powers that be give me much else to think about, hauled up in this depressing flat all day and night. I tried to go out for some bloody cigarettes last night and got forced back indoors before I made it down the street!"

Bellatrix rubbed absent-mindedly at the tiny GPS chip that lay underneath the skin at the back of her ear, a habit that had began to flare up every time she thought too much about her claustrophobic routine.

"We've talked about this. You leave the house after curfew, you politely get reminded of your contractual commitment. A contract that you willingly entered into, Bellatrix."

Hermione walked towards the disgruntled woman, extending her hand out impatiently. "You don't even know what you're doing with those, that's the earpiece you're currently trying to insert into your bra."

"Fine_. _God, if they must lock me me up in this god forsaken pit, couldn't they at least have given me a guard dog with slightly more enjoyable communication skills." Bellatrix huffed to herself, sliding the ear piece disinterestedly into it's proper place.

Ignoring her comment, as she seemed to have spent the majority of her time doing over the past three months, Hermione cast her eyes over the other woman and completed her mental tick box exercise for pre-deployment. With an appraising nod, Hermione walked over to her laptop to send a quick update back to the office. Bellatrix was due to meet with a small group of mildly important middle men in about fifteen minutes time, in a bar that Hermione privately thought was a little too cliche to be a hub of small scale arms importing.

"So, tell me what your objectives are."

Hermione leaned back onto the crooked table that sat in the corner of Bellatrix's studio flat, the dusty, generic atmosphere of the safe house a stark contrast to the restless, combative woman that stood before her. Already walking towards the door, Bellatrix turned her head to face Hermione.

"Go in, charm them all, drink some free whisky, find out about their terrible awful criminal plans, report back to my revered handler. Terribly exciting stuff."

Before Hermione could begrudgingly acknowledge the blasé summary, Bellatrix had picked up her jacket and left without bothering to shut the door behind her.

"Brilliant."

Hermione allowed herself to briefly close her eyes and take a steadying breath, before walking over to close the door and then settle in for another long night of having to listen to Bellatrix scheme and charm information out of another stream of oblivious, arrogant criminals. The hours passed, and by three AM Hermione found herself struggling to focus on the steady flow of largely mundane conversation that was coming from Bellatrix's microphone. She'd gotten the required information out of the unsuspecting men about an hour into the night, but now seemed intent on making Hermione sit and wait while she finished off her fourth, or was it fifth, whisky.

"Okay, wrap it up now Bellatrix. We're done here.". Hermione spoke into her laptop, knowing that her voice would be weaving its way into the mildly intoxicated woman's ear, but also knowing that such demands rarely resulted in a prompt response.

"_Well,_" she thought, "_Rome wasn't built in a day_."

The past three months had been gruelling at best, and outright horrific at worst. For the first three weeks Bellatrix had refused to engage with her, instead spending every meeting pretending to rant like an insane person about conspiracy theories and schizophrenic monologues. One sessions reached a particular climax when Bellatrix attempted to elbow the security guard in the throat, and then stabbed a pen into the fleshy part of her own hand.

The following three weeks had required the raven haired woman to use a different technique when her theatrics had been met with, at most, an eye roll and a disinterested stare. She'd fed Hermione heart wrenching stories of her childhood as an abandoned destitute orphan, forced into a life of crime in order to make enough money to eat. This had caused a marginally more engaged response from her new handler, but was quickly shut down once Hermione presented twelve years worth of psychiatric reports as well as a detailed timeline of her childhood in Russia.

Having sat through no less than fourty-two meetings featuring various acts from her repertoire of manipulation, Bellatrix had strolled into the meeting room, rolled her eyes, slumped down into the hard plastic chair that she'd dragged carelessly from under the desk, and sighed dramatically. From that point, a slow truce had formed, whereby Hermione would give her an inch of _agency authorised _conversational exchange, often involving faux sociable topics such as the latest book she'd read or staff gossip she'd heard, before Hermione swiftly pulled her back onto the topic of work. Bellatrix was bored, and this, Hermione thought, was going to be their greatest obstacle.

In prison, she'd at least had the guards who she could toy with, or the psychiatrists who she could baffle. Hermione was impenetrable, to the point where Bellatrix regularly wondered out loud if the agency had carried out some dark psychological practice on her.

As had become habit during these regular evening deployments, Hermione was just about to open the communication line to inform Bellatrix that if her return to the safe house wasn't imminent then her return to prison would be, she saw the GPS marker start to move on the screen in front of her. Smirking in silent victory, an expression she would never allow when physically accompanying the woman, Hermione lent towards the microphone; "Thank you Ms Black."

"_I told you not to call me that_.".

Hermione laughed as the muffled yet disgruntled voice spoke out into the quiet flat.

"And a good seventy percent of the instructions I give you are similarly ignored, so let's not dwell on it."

Hermione closed the line, effectively cutting off the other women's chance at responding with a similarly curt reply. Bellatrix, whilst frustrated with her inability to quip back at the handler, found herself smirking as she strolled back home through the streets of East London.

* * *

As they'd done roughly twice a week since July, Hermione stood untangling the surveillance wires as Bellatrix sat disinterestedly in the dilapidated chair in the corner of the sparse flat. The two women had developed a strange type of routine, whereby Hermione attended to work in the agency during the day, and then went to Bellatrix's flat in the evening to review upcoming deployments and update her on any relevant developments. Much to Bellatrix's annoyance, and a point with which Hermione privately empathised, Bellatrix was only fed enough information as to ensure she could effectively carry out her deployment; she was completely in the dark as to the wider picture within the agency. Similarly, once Hermione had collated the intelligence reports and sent them off to the hub, she was only privy to occasional glances into the subsequence chain of events that were put in place. The lack of an overarching insight, or at the very least, knowledge of the final outcomes of her projects, was something that had consistently frustrated Hermione about her work with the agency. Sometimes it felt like she was simply throwing her work into a giant, mysterious void, without even the smallest of echoes to help placate her constantly ticking mind.

Had Hermione not spent almost every day in the company of the other woman, she perhaps wouldn't have noticed the way her assets dark eyes tracked her movement every time she thought the younger agent wasn't looking. Hermione was tired. She hadn't seen her, albeit small, group of friends in weeks, she'd almost forgotten how to work the oven in her own kitchen, and she was lucky if she could stay asleep for more than a couple of hours at a time.

Her hair had grown slightly longer than usual, and this resulted in the ends repeatedly tickling her collarbones as she tilted her head over the box of electronics. She irritably ran her hands through it, shifting it so it fell over one shoulder, and perhaps slightly hoping it would mask the feel of the dark eyes as they studied her features.

"You've usually impatiently come to grab these from me by now."

Bellatrix's focus snapped back onto Hermione's eyes, realising a little too late that the brunette was standing holding the surveillance equipment in her outstretched hands, the ghost of amusement dancing behind her carefully balanced expression.

Struggling to win back her confident composure, Bellatrix darted from the sunken chair and strolled over to the brunette, rolling up the sleeve of her navy silk shirt, which she hadn't realised she'd been absently fiddling with. Hermione appraised the other woman as she moved closer, retracting her hand which held the wires as the raven haired woman got within reaching distance.

"What is it? I'm not letting you out into the field if you're distracted. Talk."

Hermione continued to study the other woman with a mix of concern and frustration. Bellatrix remained oblivious to this due to the fact she was now stood before the agent, arms crossed, distinctly refusing to meet Hermione`s eyes as she resolutely rolled her own to the ceiling.

"Since when did you become my psych. Just hurry up and stick the bloody microphone on me."

"If you get hurt or blow your cover, it lands on me. I know you're knackered, I am too. But we're close to locating this shipment. There's probab-"

"Hermione, I honestly couldn't give a fuck if we find some pathetic little stash of weapons. I – no, don't give me your disparaging morally superior look – I'm not just tired, I feel like I'm… fucking… _I don't know_."

Bellatrix clenched her jaw slightly as she walked towards the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of water. Hermione allowed the silence to hang between them, finding herself having to fight to hold her stiff agent posture.

"You've read my file, right? You know what I did before. What life I led. I'd been surviving on my own since I was a kid, if I wanted something, I went and got it. If I wanted someone, I went and got them. Until some low life traitorous scum handed me over to save themselves and now I'm living in some mouldy little flat having to suck up to disgusting little men for the pleasure."

Bellatrix hadn't realised her knuckles had began to turn white as they clenched the glass. Straightening her back and shaking her head briefly, as if somehow able to clear the thoughts from her mind, she turned back towards Hermione.

"Perhaps this little task isn't as exciting as you thought it would be, maybe you should ask that boss of yours to send you back to your old team."

Hermione scowled slightly, "How do you know about my old team?"

Bellatrix smirked at her, confidence pouring back into her composure as she walked towards the table, picking up the surveillance equipment and beginning to fit it.

"Your colleagues really do like to chat amongst themselves when they think no one's listening. What else do I have to entertain me?"

Hermione's scowl deepened as she suppressed an exasperated eye-roll. She was going to have to bring this up at the next morning meeting.

"And by the way, I think that Neville fool is on the precipice of asking you out for a drink. For the record, I think you'd make a _lovely_ couple."

Hermione couldn't help but let out a laugh at both the ridiculous thought of her and Neville, and Bellatrix's attempt to imitate what she clearly believed to be female bonding.

"Thank you Bellatrix, I will be sure to keep that in mind when responding to Neville's advances."

Bellatrix took a few minutes to fiddle with the microphone, trying to get it to sit properly behind the button on her shirt, before lifting her head again and appraising Hermione with a raised eyebrow.

"I can't imagine this job leaves much time for dating?"

"No. It doesn't. Or much else, actually."

Hermione had responded before she could catch herself, too distracted by the flickering sparks of energy that had once again began to light up behind the other woman's black eyes.

"And that doesn't bother you? That you spend most of your time with an imprisoned international arms dealer, caged in a damp flat in East London?".

Perhaps it was the tiredness, or some weird attempt to subtly rebel against the institution that had absorbed her being for the past five years, but Hermione couldn't really find it in herself to put a stop to the conversation which was quickly veering into personal territory.

"No, it doesn't bother me. I chose this. I wanted a career, well, a _life_, where I made a difference. I know we're not exactly dealing with international terror plots or anything, but it still makes a difference. Those guns we're taking off the street, that's one less gun that's going to end up killing people. To me, that matters."

Hermione had found her voice trail off slightly towards the end, the heat rising slightly in her cheeks as she caught the intensely appraising eyes of the woman in front of her. "Plus, it's not as if I have a crowd of people waiting to spend time with me when I'm not hanging out with an international arms dealer in a mouldy East London flat, anyway.". She grinned slightly as the atmosphere lightened, some of the weight that hung with her previous words evaporating.

"Well, in that case, I'm glad I can be of service. Maybe once you and Agent Longbottom marry you won't need me to fill such voids.". Bellatrix raised a challenging eyebrow as she grinned at the handler.

"Hmm, I'm afraid you may have to play void filler for a little longer, I tend to like my men a little more… womanly. Poor Neville. He really doesn't have much luck with the ladies.". Hermione laughed and shook her head slightly, thinking back to the time she'd spent a whole month watching him attempt to ask out Luna Lovegood on a daily basis in the agency canteen, only to have his efforts repeatedly misunderstood or deflected until he'd eventually given up entirely.

"Womanly, eh? I knew there must be a reason I didn't find you quite as insufferable as all the other idiots they tried to assign as handler before you.". It was only when Bellatrix repeated her words back to her that Hermione realised just how much she had disclosed.

Shuffling slightly and forcing an immediate change in atmosphere, Hermione cleared her throat and moved to the other side of the table, busying herself with repeatedly running her finger across the touchpad without actually clicking on anything.

"Right, okay, so, we have thirty minutes until Adrian is due at the club. Tonight, we mainly need you to ascertain which port they're aiming for. We know it's not southern, but apart from that we're pretty much blind. Any questions?"

"Plenty, but none about Adrian and his little weasel mates." Bellatrix gave Hermione a knowing glance and proceeded to waltz out of the door.

* * *

"Here, coffee. Drink it. You look worse than I do, and I've been living in this shit hole for the past six months."

Bellatrix placed a mug of black coffee down next to the agents laptop, not the slightest bit concerned when some sloshed over the edge and formed a ring around the base of the mug.

"Yes, well, Caroline has been chasing this report all day and we just don't have the information yet. They're holding something back from us, and I don't know what."

Hermione leaned back in the wooden chair, pushing her laptop away slightly as she tilted her head backwards with a tired exhale.

"Who's holding something back, the agency or Adrian and his pals?"

"Adrian. Although most likely the agency, too."

The two women had built a reticent trust over their mutual dislike at being perpetually kept in the dark. Bellatrix privately found it slightly comforting that she wasn't the only one frustrated by the situation, although simultaneously felt a little offended on behalf of the agent; if Caroline was her boss, she would have definitely had some particularly strong words for her due to the repeated disregard of the agents intellect.

"Tell me what you need. I'll visit the club tonight and do some snooping. This flat is depressing enough without you moping around too."

Hermione grinned slightly at the other woman's attempt at an exasperated eye-roll, the warmth from her mug radiating softly through her hands.

"I think we've been fed some false intel. I don't think it's intentionally targeting you; I'm not worried that your cover's blown. It's a pretty standard tactic, occasionally the networks get flooded with false information to throw potential law enforcement agencies off the trail. And it's working. The past three raids have been complete busts, and I'm reticent for us to authorise another one in case the trail leads back to you."

"Simple, I'll put an order in for the next shipment. I'll quite enjoy the chance for a dramatic display when my guns mysteriously get seized by the British government and I'm left out of pocket."

Bellatrix arched an eye brow and grinned at the agent, the prospect of getting a chance to blow off some steam a welcome opportunity.

"Yes, that was my proposal to Caroline too. However, she seems a little… concerned that you might take your role as disgruntled client a little too seriously. And honestly Bellatrix, I'm not one hundred percent confident in assuring her this won't happen."

Hermione held Bellatrix's gaze, challenging her to disagree.

"Really Hermione, the knowledge that you think so little of my ability to remain calm and Zen is borderline offensive..."

Bellatrix, for want of a better word, cackled as she rocked back slightly on the creaking wooden chair. Realising that she was getting little more than a bored raised eyebrow from the agent, Bellatrix placed all four chair legs on the floor and sighed dramatically.

"Fine. Send old sour face an email saying I promise to be on my very best behaviour, at the very most he'll end up with some broken fingers and a bruised ego. Now I'm going to buy some cigarettes; I think you could probably use one too."

And with that, Bellatrix stood up and strolled out of the flat.

* * *

Having received confirmation that their plan had worked and the agency had successfully intercepted the latest batch of weapons, Hermione was a little surprised the darker women didn't seem a little more excited about her upcoming deployment. Having had to listen to Bellatrix's increasingly flamboyant ideas for displaying her faux outrage over her seized shipment, the agent had expected the pre-operation mood to be distinctly more jovial. However, as it stood, she was left standing in front of the asset with her arms crossed and a stern look on her face.

"I thought you were looking forward to, what was it… oh yes, 'pushing his finger back until it connected with his shitty Rolex whilst telling him about how his mother must have been fucked by a street rat to create such a pathetic excuse for a man'?"

Bellatrix continued to unsuccessfully try and slot the receiver underneath the wire of her bra, not bothering to meet the agents eyes.

"Yeah, well, it turns out fake, performative rage is just as boring in reality as no rage at all. Let's just get it over with so I don't have to see his snivelling rat face for at least another week."

Sensing there was little to be done in the moment to improve the mood, Hermione unfolded her arms and sighed.

"Fine. But once you leave this room, we stick to the prearranged plan, okay? The paperwork would be a nightmare if either you or Adrian lost a limb, and I really don't want to be the one to call Caroline at three AM with the bad news."

Noting that Bellatrix's scowl remained firmly in place, and becoming increasingly worried that she was about to crush the sensitive piece of equipment she was mauling in her failed attempts to fit, Hermione moved towards her and placed a hand on her wrist, using her other to pluck the delicate receiver from where it was grasped between clenched fingers.

"May I?" Hermione motioned towards the receiver.

"Fine, but be quick. It's cold in this shitty flat."

"Yes boss..." Hermione rolled her eyes at the other woman's enduring grumpy mood.

Both women hadn't fully acknowledged the intimacy of the situation until the agent swallowed harshly as she reached out to place the tiny chip behind the underwire of the woman's maroon bra. Decided it was best to be as quick and efficient as possible, Hermione resolutely refused to make eye contact with the other woman, despite feeling the familiar heat of the others woman's gaze tracing her features. Unfortunately, her attempts to keep her eyes firmly affixed on the task in hand meant she repeatedly had to drag her thoughts away from revelling in how perfectly the other woman's pale, soft skin contrasted with the rich material of her underwear.

Having successfully tucked the chip into the material, Hermione frustratingly released she was not only unable to raise her head to meet the other woman's gaze, but that she had also become somewhat frozen in place as she tried to think of a way she could make a swift exit from the situation without appearing as though she was running off like some sort of school girl.

Her slightly panicked thoughts were interrupted when she both heard and seemed to almost feel the dark woman swallow thickly and clench, then unclench, a hand that lay uselessly at her side.

Much to her horror, as her brain seemed to jolt into awkward action, she realised that the hand that had pushed the chip into its final resting place had remained in situ, lowering slightly so that her finger tips lay ghosting over pale skin that traced over the dips and curve of ribs.

Not unlike a rabbit caught in the headlights of a particularly lethal oncoming car, Hermione's head snapped up in mild horror to meet the confused, curious gaze of the other woman.

"I, uh… shit, yes. Sorry, it's, um, in place."

Bellatrix's hands, which had unknowingly to both women, been inching closer and closer to the softness of the agents body, snapped back to her sides as she bought one hands up to roughly rake through her hair, tucking loose strands roughly behind her ear.

"Okay, good. I'll just... I'll just go and um, get my shirt."

* * *

"Bellatrix I am going to _kill_ you! Why do you think we have a withdrawal strategy? Why do you think I get you to recite the extraction phrase to me before every bloody deployment? It's so you don't end up like this!"

Hermione hadn't stopped ranting since she'd dragged Bellatrix up the three flights of stairs and into the cold apartment. To her credit, Bellatrix had taken the berating without too much protest, but that may have had more to do with the nasty cut that ran across her lip, or perhaps the extensive purple currently blossoming around her ribcage. Bellatrix sat slumped back against the seat that usually served as Hermione's office chair. The raven haired woman briefly contemplated why the agent refused to purchase a comfier one, especially as she spent the vast majority of her time sat tensely leaning over the old desk.

Hermione had spent the last few minutes angrily monologuing as she scoured the apartment for first aid supplies. "We're taking you to the agency, you could have a broken rib or have some sort of bleeding somewhere, or a concussion, I once read about how you can pierce -".

"Mione, I'm fine. It's just a few grazes. No agency. Okay?"

The woman may have been more convincing had she not winced with every movement of her mouth, or groaned slightly as she shifted to alleviate the ache in her side. Hermione stilled as she appraised the stubborn woman. Rolling her eyes and letting out a short, sharp breath, she moved across the room. Kneeling in front of Bellatrix, she found herself distractedly undoing the laces from the woman's boots, her stomach clenching slightly as she realise the damp laces had left red stains across her finger tips.

"Why do you insist on winding people up until they snap, Bella?"

Hermione gently eased the first boot off, noticing how the other woman inhaled sharply as she shifted slightly in her seat.

"How else am I meant to get my kicks? You've got me entertaining low level morons who have the planning capacity of a teenager in Amsterdam. Besides, your agency had been pretty clear about what would happen if I tried any of my more creative tricks."

"I haven't got you doing anything, you signed up to this, you knew they weren't going to let you gallivant off like you're twenty-five again."

The bloodied woman stayed silent at this, although Hermione suspected it was more due to her split lip than any genuine acknowledgement of the accuracy of her statement.

Hermione pushed the heavy boots to the side of the chair, steadying herself with a hand on Bellatrix's denim clad thigh.

"I wish you'd stop taking these stupid risks."

Hermione looked up from where she remained kneeling on the floor, staring up at the woman and finding a softness in the other woman's gaze which she hadn't expected. She felt her chest tighten a bit as she watched her wince slightly as she ran her tongue across her newly split lower lip.

"Can I?"

Hermione reached up, motioning the buttons on Bellatrix's shirt, one of which had been lost on the fight. Bellatrix continued her observation of the agent, eventually giving a curt nod and moving her legs slightly further apart, allowing the brunette space to kneel between them.

"Fuck. This is really bad Bella, you've got to have broken something - you're practically purple here."

Hermione hovered her hand a millimetre above the bruised skin that lay over ribs she was certain couldn't have made it through in tact. Her other hand lay on the other woman's hip, where tight black Denim met soft pale skin, not fully allowing herself to think if this action was more to ground the other woman or herself.

"I know what broken ribs feel like; this is just bruising. I'll be fine in a few days."

There was something in the lack of challenge, the lack of _fight_, in her voice that made Hermione's thoughts prickle with anxiety.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

Bellatrix was momentarily shocked from the haziness that was slowly dragging her eyelids lower - she hadn't expected the agent to accept her placating so easily. Hermione stood up, reaching briefly to place two fingers under the exhausted woman's jaw and tilt her head slightly towards the light, inspecting her skin for any cuts she'd yet to discover.

"I'm going to bring some antiseptic for these, okay? Stay put."

As Hermione strolled purposefully off towards the bathroom, Bellatrix forced herself to stand up, groaning as her muscles protested. She unbuttoned her jeans and gingery shook them off, crawling into her bed without worrying about the various swatches of blood she was leaving in her wake.

"Bellatrix. I literally gave you one job.".

Hermione stood at the foot of the bed, antiseptic and cotton wool in hand, and a mixture of bemusement and exasperation furrowed in her brow. There was something oddly soothing about the woman's defiance. In response, she gave a muffled grunt, which potentially could have been construed as an apology, before returning to stillness.

The agent didn't have it in her to berate any further, the image of the other woman spread out in front of her wearing nothing but her underwear and a myriad of bruises contributed somewhat to her inability to find any further words.

"Fine. We'll do it your way."

Bellatrix opened one eye and peered at the other woman, momentarily forgetting how exhaustion clung to her body as she watched the agent take off her jacket, then her shoes, until she was softly crawling into the space next to her.

"If the mountain won't come to Mohammed..."

Hermione smirked, slightly annoyed that she couldn't fully enjoy the shock plastered over the other woman's face whilst she simultaneously looked so miserable.

Hermione sat cross legged at the top of the bed, a few inches from where the other woman still remained face down with her one eye fixed appraisingly on her.

"I'm going to antiseptic those cuts even if I have to wait until you've passed out to do so."

And with that, she reached out and tucked errant curls back behind Bellatrix's ear, the other woman wincing slightly as the hair pulled away from the dried blood around her various cuts.

"Be careful, Hermione."

The stinging of various injuries momentarily forgotten as black eyes bore into brown, the duality of intention behind her warning hanging between them. And then, with a roll of her eyes and a wince at the subsequent pull of muscles, Bellatrix huffed in a way that should definitely be reserved for overtired toddlers, and slowly turned over, allowing the agent full access to her. She didn't miss how the other woman's eyes momentarily flickered down over her exposed body, and from the way she instantly averted her gaze, she had a feeling that it hadn't been a medical in nature.

"This is going to sting. Don't complain too much, okay?"

Bellatrix scowled at her slightly, but the action was contradicted slightly when Hermione felt her hand come to rest on her ankle, wrapping securely around it in what felt like a gentle apology, or perhaps simply a way to placate Hermione into escaping another round of angry ranting about failed safety procedures. After multiple scenarios where Bellatrix had tried to jerk her head away from probing, stinging cotton wool, the scene Hermione was eventually left to contemplate including a sleeping Bellatrix - somehow a scowl still firmly affixed to her face - with her head resting in the centre of Hermione's crossed legs, and the agents hand gentle trailing over the bits of her face that had escaped injury.

The next time Hermione was pulled back into consciousness, she couldn't tell if it was instigated by the huge ache in her neck, which had fallen backwards against the headboard, or because the woman still lying in her lap was, for want of a better word, whimpering untranslatable words, none of which sounded peaceful. Gently pulling herself out from under the woman, Hermione knelt by the side of her, one hand coming out to rest just below a collarbone, the other attempting to sooth the deep frown lines that lay across her forehead.

"Hey, Bellatrix, it's okay, it's me. You're okay.".

She shuffled a little further down the bed, leaning down so that she was laying sideways next to the other woman.

"_Fuck. _What am I doing._"_

Hermione let the words fall like a dead weight from her lips, her eyes closing as a deep breath reverberated around her lungs. She lifted a hand to trace fingers lightly over the furrowed brow of the other woman. Whilst she hadn't awoken, it seemed as though her dreams had stilled somewhat, and with this, Hermione felt herself drift off once again.

An hour, or possibly several months later, Bellatrix's dreams were suddenly flooded with orange light, as Hermione had pulled open the curtains on the other side of the bedroom. Warm amber street-light flooded the room, causing Bellatrix to groan and bury her head further into a pillow, and then groan again as she felt her face burn with the contact, and then groan again when the clench of her abdomen caused a sharp pain to shoot through her torso.

"What the… why-"

"Because you were too arrogant and egotistical to request a withdrawal, and too stubborn to back down from a fight. That's why."

Bellatrix slowly sat upright in bed, pulling her hand through her curls and gingerly placing her fingers against the cut on her lip.

"You've been asleep for almost twenty hours. I needed you to wake up so I can check your injuries and give you some pills."

"Are you mad at me?"

"No."

"Hermione, you've got your jaw clenched that tightly you're going to lose a handful of teeth."

"No, I'm not '_mad_' at you Bellatrix, because that would imply we were some sort of couple who had had a small domestic and you'd gone out and had too many tequilas."

Hermione, with a lack of conscious choice, stomped across the room towards the injured woman. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and began to shine it back and forth between Bellatrix's' eyes.

"A better word would be frustrated, tired, and pissed off with myself for thinking you were capable of not actively putting yourself in the line of fire."

Bellatrix, fully aware that the agent had now been shining her torch in the same eye for the past thirty seconds as she continued to clench her jaw and berate the woman, acted on instinct, a motivation that was darkly ironic considering the circumstances.

She reached up to grab the wrist holding the phone, grateful when this seemed to interrupt the agent from her increasingly sharp shower of words.

"Okay. You're right. It was stupid. I just got angry. I don't know why. Well, I kind of do, but that doesn't mean it was smart."

Hermione swallowed looking between the hand holding her wrist and the dark eyes searching her own.

"I don't want to wait around until you get killed. I'm not doing it, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix's eyes flicked between Hermione's, slight confusion furrowing her brow as her grip loosened on the other woman.

"I'm just a job, Hermione. I'm stopped being someone that life or death was bothered about twelve years ago. If I die, nothing changes."

Bellatrix flinched slightly as Hermione abruptly stood up, choking out an incredulous laugh.

"_Enough. _Enough of this self-pity Bellatrix. I get it, you've been dealt a shit card. But this is the life you _chose._ You don't get to jet around the world hurting people, killing people, breaking the law, and then moan when you face the consequences. That's not how this works."

Bellatrix refused to flinch as the pain from standing burning through her, "You think this is what this is? You think I want your _pity?!" _

Bellatrix prowled towards Hermione, enjoying the look of fire burning in the agents eyes.

"You do this secret agent bullshit because you want to live a life that's above the fucking swamps of normality that drown every other person in this world. You also had a fancy house, and loving, living parents, and certificates and degrees and food on the fucking table. You got to pick the stamped and approved route into this world. I didn't. I had to climb over bodies and filth and grabbing hands to get my money and power and access to a life that wasn't suffocating in it's mediocrity. I might be paying the price now, but at least I felt alive. At least I never lied to myself about what I needed in order to _feel _something.".

Hermione thought that in this moment, Bellatrix looked distinctly like a jaguar about to dive in for the kill, and much to her horror, in that moment, Hermione had never wanted anything more in her life.

Hermione felt the silence stretch out in the space between them, watching as Bellatrix seemed to wait in acknowledgement that it was Hermione's burden to make the next move.

With a strength Hermione hadn't realise she possessed, the agent straightened slightly, swallowing heavily as she took a step backwards. As if a rope was cut between them, Bellatrix felt her own body stiffen and straighten as she reciprocated the movement.

"Fine, Hermione. If you want me to be a fucking villain, I will be."

And with that, she stormed off towards the bathroom, leaving Hermione to stand in the absence of her presence and panic about what the hell had just happened.

* * *

Hermione reclined in the uncomfortable wooden chair, watching as the dot signalling Bellatrix's location remained stationary on the map in front of her.

Bellatrix had been particularly difficult the last few weeks, arriving late to meetings, appearing more antisocial and distant than usual, and twice causing agents to attend the safe house on nights where she stayed out after curfew and ignored the multitude of warnings her tracker had pinged to her phone.

And tonight, as Hermione expected, Bellatrix was refusing to cooperate with her plans for the drop meeting. The agent had requested that Bellatrix attend the bar, deliver the money, find out the next location, and leave.

In and out, had been her phrase.

Bellatrix had most definitely done the in part, but seemed to be less inclined to do the out. Hermione's ears pricked up as the line crackled into life, signalling the fact the Bellatrix finally had some information ready to broadcast.

Surprisingly, but not as surprising as it perhaps should have been Hermione realised, Bellatrix's warm laugh floated into the quiet apartment. Hermione and Bellatrix spoke English together, exclusively. Despite both speaking Russian, and Bellatrix speaking a spectrum of other Slavic languages, both had agreed that English would be their mode of operation. Sometimes, very occasionally, Hermione would catch the slight cut of Russian drip across her English, usually when the other woman was tired, or on a monologue about some article she'd read in the National Geographic that she thought the agent wasn't listening to.

Hermione never acknowledged when this happened, mainly because it wasn't worth putting Bellatrix in a bad mood over, but also, and in a very repressed corner of her brain, it was because she found this glimpse into the woman's past strangely comforting; the knowledge that behind the carefully disinterested demeanour lay a rich and complex history that at times, was just about visible beneath the hard surface.

And it was because of this that Hermione frowned in momentary confusion when she heard Bellatrix speaking in a language she wasn't entirely familiar with. Hermione leant closer to the laptop as she struggled to differentiate. Just as she went to open her line to ask Bellatrix what the hell was happening, another voice, also female but far lighter and faster than Bellatrix's came through.

"Bellatrix, what's going on? There weren't meant to be any other women attending tonight?"

Hermione found herself tapping lightly on the space bar of her laptop, rubbing her fingertips over the hard plastic as she awaited a response. Hermione heard the other women laugh, and her tone made the agents stomach twist with something that almost definitely shouldn't be there. It took her a second to realise she could now understand what Bellatrix was saying, she had switched to Russian, telling the other woman that her Polish was a little rusty.

"_Let me show you something_."

The other woman's Russian was broken and heavily accented, but comprehensible nevertheless. Hermione went to open her line again, but stopped herself once she realised she didn't exactly know what she wanted to say. Bellatrix hadn't stated she was in any trouble, and she didn't want to risk ruining a potential intelligence gathering exercise. Hermione's better, or perhaps worse, judgment made her doubt the realism of that last thought.

Swallowing heavily, Hermione forced her hand to unclench as she listened to the two women chat as they moved through the bar. There was a rustle, the same noise that usually meant Bellatrix had forgotten where her mic was and subsequently put her hand or arm over it, but this time it was accompanied by the lighter voice speaking.

"_You like it?_"

"_I like it._"

Hermione felt the blood momentarily drain from her face as Bellatrix's voice practically oozed out from Hermione's laptop, causing the her eyes to widen slightly.

"Oh no no no. This is not going to happen."

Hermione swore as she clicked open the communication line.

"Bellatrix, whatever you think you're doing, stop it."

Hermione could almost hear the smirk in Bellatrix's moan, and she struggled to regain control of the situation that was unravelling before her.

"_Don't stop._"

Hermione once again swore under her breath as the now very breathy and annoyingly simpering voice of the other unknown woman forced its way out of her laptop.

"_Stop talking._"

She couldn't help but roll her eyes slightly, of course this was the type of thing Bellatrix would say to someone mid back-room hook up. Hermione thought back through her training; obviously it was strongly encouraged that assets did not engage in sexual relationships whilst on deployment, but also it was acknowledged that cover is of primary importance, so unless a situation occurs where life is at risk and the asset request withdrawal, its business as usual.

Which meant Hermione was going to have to sit at her laptop and listen while Bellatrix exercised whatever fucked up experiment she had decided to conduct for the evening.

Mercifully, Hermione supposed, Bellatrix's activity partner had taken the raven haired woman's instruction and remained quiet. Less mercifully, this meant Hermione was sat bolt upright on the edge of the rickety wooden chair, in the flat belonging to the other woman, listening whilst said woman's gentle, but mostly not-so-gentle, utterings filled the room.

Hermione was keenly aware that her hands were now clenched in tight fists either side of her computer, and suddenly her skin felt uncomfortably warm. Unlike certain other times, times which Hermione had resolutely attempted to ignore, this particularly bodily reaction to the asset wasn't particularly enjoyable. In fact, the tightness in her muscles and the prickly heat spreading over her skin made her want to slam the laptop shut and leave the woman's apartment. Unfortunately, this wasn't an option.

As Bellatrix moaned out, a low whisper of '_yes'_ being dragged from her throat, Hermione closed her eyes, her leg jumping anxiously up and down, and a lip pulled too harshly between her teeth. With little conscious though, Hermione slammed down the space bar and opened the line, her voice scratching slightly through her throat as she barely uttered;

"Bellatrix, I don't want you to do this."

There were a few heartbeats before, much to Hermione's horror, she felt almost acidic moisture blur her vision.

"Please." she added.

Hermione couldn't quite differentiate the multitude of thoughts, both conscious and unconscious, that were running through her head and triggering all sorts of contradictory reactions. However, when Bellatrix's voice crackled back through the line almost immediately, and a soft "_Okay_" reached her ears, the torrent of emotions suddenly dropped from her body, and a horrible, wonderful sense of relief washed over her.

* * *

Hermione had been pacing the perimeter of the small studio apartment for the past fifteen minutes, watching as the GPS locater got closer and closer to the flat. This wasn't good. Hermione knew that whatever this was, whatever complicated, psychologically fucked up situation this was, it was primarily one that was categorically not good. She had spent the past five minutes mentally drafting a withdrawal email to her boss, a succinct few sentences explaining that the Asset Unit just wasn't for her and she would very much like to go back to her nice, psychologically comfortable job in the intelligence analysis unit.

She'd given it eight months, she was only contracted for four more, it totally, definitely, would not be an issue. She could probably be back at her old desk by Monday!

Hermione froze, one hand on her hip and the other clutching lightly at the hair she was pulling back from falling over her face. She watched as Bellatrix opened the door, no trace of her carefully crafted Mi5 mask to blanket the strange mix of horror and relief that was currently furrowing her brow.

"I can't."

As was become an unpleasant habit around the raven haired woman, the words were out of Hermione's mouth before she had had chance to acknowledge them. Bellatrix momentarily stayed where she was, softly letting the door close behind her. She was observing Hermione, watching as the younger woman's hand fell from her hair until it covered her mouth, the light hazel eyes gleaming slightly with a panic that settled somewhere far too deep within Bellatrix's lungs.

"I know."

Bellatrix moved from the door until she stood in front of the agent, and with an action that was so soft neither woman registered it at first, the older woman gently pulled on the hand that was covering her face, using her other hand to brush back some golden strands, placing them carefully behind her ear.

Hermione closed her eyes, inhaling deeply and forcing herself to open them again, pulling the last few strands of clarity together and trying to force them into action. As her gaze met the other woman's, she could decipher nothing but patience. The other woman was just waiting; calmly, softly, waiting.

"I can't."

Hermione, in any other moment, would berate herself for her complete lack of ability to verbalise her acute need to be far, far away from the woman in front of her.

"I know."

Bellatrix made no move to step back, and Hermione found dangerous relief loosening her muscles.

"I want to."

This time, Hermione's voice was so quiet, she could have happily denied ever having said it.

"Me too."

This time, Bellatrix looked genuinely taken aback that that sound had left her lips. She darted her eyes up from where they'd been resting on the agents lips, until her gaze locked with Hermione's. As Bellatrix, with a look a slight panic burning wildly in her eyes, moved to take her hand away from where it was cupping the other woman's jaw, she suddenly found her eyes drifting shut as the perfect feeling of desire and relief and finally flooded her skin when the agents soft lips made contact with her own.

Hermione had never felt such a strong need to have every piece of her body pushed greedily against another persons skin. Bellatrix, having momentarily been stilled into inaction due to sheer euphoria, responded to the way Hermione's hands quickly found their home against her body by backing the agent up against a nearby wall.

Hermione's head fell back against the wall, her pupils blown in the most perfect way, and she swallowed thickly as Bellatrix momentarily paused in order to rake her eyes over the wonderful image before her.

"Fuck."

Hermione panted, her eyes closing as she watched a perfect grin spread over the raven haired woman's face. She had one hand resting on the curve of older woman's hip, her hand gently pulling at the silk material to untuck it from the tight black jeans. Hermione tilted her head forward again, opening her eyes to capture the other woman's gaze. Bellatrix, adapting to this change in pace, kept one hand leaning in he wall next to the agents head, and another careful tracing the skin of her jaw with the pad of her thumb.

Hermione had finally untucked the soft material, and swallowed with the weight of too many suppressed memories as she raised her hands to begin unbuttoned the shirt, watching the curious black eyes that flickered lower to trace her movement.

"Are you going to kiss me, or is this just your new approach to checking I've not forgotten to take my mic off...?"

Bellatrix quirked an eyebrow in challenge, still studying the brunette's face with the intensity of an artist memorising their subject.

"Well if someone paid more attention to detail, she wouldn't need to be reprimanded for destroying yet another piece of agency equipment..."

As Hermione spoke, her fingers stilled from their task of unbuttoning the other woman's shirt, her mind now more preoccupied with leaning in closer to the soft, aggravating, glorious pout of the woman in front of her.


	2. Chapter 2

"Fuck, no, Bella, I need too… No really, stop, its Caroline, I ca-"

Hermione attempted to crawl her way over towards the bedside table, where her phone was about to vibrate off the edge. Her body was getting tangled in the obstacle course of sheets and insistent hands of the woman currently trying to pull her back into the enticing warmth of the bed.

"But this is so much more fun..."

"It will be distinctly less fun when Caroline comes knocking down the door thinking you've finally snapped and murdered me."

Bellatrix laughed as she finally released the woman and flipped herself over, staring at the ceiling as she felt Hermione rest one of her hands on her forearm before answering the call.

Deciding it was far more entertaining to trace the lines of the other woman's body than to invest energy in listening to whatever drivel Caroline had to say, Bellatrix let a lazy grin fall over her lips. However, this peace was short lived when Bellatrix heard the mild panic in her lover's voice.

"Yes, of course, that's fine. Perfect. Okay, great. Yes, see you this evening."

"_What? _She's coming here? Tonight? Why?"

Bellatrix had sat upright in bed, even more annoyed at Caroline when she noticed Hermione was getting hastily redressed.

"In case you've forgotten, there was the small issue of you breaking protocol and getting repeatedly punched a few nights ago. We're under review. Caroline will be reviewing our work and accompanying us on tonight's deployment."

* * *

"I don't know how they think old Sandra here is going to contribute to my ability to get stupid old blokes to tell me their petty criminal schemes."

"Firstly, her name is Caroline, and secondly, you know she's here precisely because you decided you'd rather spend the night drinking too much whisky and snorting cocaine opposed to gathering the intelligence on said criminal plans."

Hermione and Bellatrix both sat at the table in the dingy flat, waiting for Caroline to finish a phone call from the bedroom. Caroline had insisted that she come and do a formal assessment on both Bellatrix's psychological state, but slightly more worryingly, Hermione's suitability as a handler for this particular asset. And due to recent developments, Hermione was also beginning to query this.

Caroline has assured her that this was by no means a slight on Hermione's professionalism, but instead a relatively common occurrence in the Unit, whereby a handler and their asset failed to establish a robust enough working relationship. The irony of this was not lost on Hermione.

She found herself distractedly picking at a chip of wood that was flaking from the corner of the old dining room table. Bellatrix leant back in her chair, arm stretched out across the back and using one foot to occasionally tilt it back onto two creaking wooden legs.

Hermione was clenching her jaw as she observed the relaxed aura of the other woman. Despite the events of the previous night, the atmosphere between the women had become distinctly frosty since the reality of their situation had sunk in. This hadn't been helped by the fact Hermione's default response to criticism was to go into overdrive with her perfectionist, uptight inclinations, whilst Bellatrix's appeared to be giving less of a fuck than she previously had, which was already essentially giving, well, no fucks at all.

"You realise I could get taken off your case, right? Which not only looks absolutely shit, quite frankly, for my official record, but it also means you'll be put back into limbo until they can find another handler stupid enough to agree to take you on."

Bellatrix scowled at Hermione, her jaw clenching slightly as she rocked forward on her seat and all four legs made abrupt contact with the floor.

"It was one nig- okay, a few nights Hermione. All I do is sleep, work, and sleep again. I'm bored out of my brain. What do they expect, shoving a bored criminal into a shady bar with a whole load of other criminals?!"

Before she could escalate the conversation, Caroline walked back into the kitchen. Hermione's distracted picking at the table stopped abruptly, whereas Bellatrix once again took up her position of rocking back and forth on the precarious chair legs.

Not wasting more than a brief glance at the destructive asset, Caroline threw down the briefing for this evenings operation.

"I trust that you can both have this read and processed by six PM. We leave at ten. Hermione and I will be stationed in a vehicle a few streets away from the bar, should you have yet another little... episode."

And with this Caroline stalked off towards the sofa, where she awkwardly perched on the edge and opened her laptop. If she weren't so embarrassed, Hermione may have found the mix of shock and disgust dripping from Bellatrix's expression quite amusing. Realising that Bellatrix seemed to be somewhat immobilised by her sheer dislike for the new addition to their team, Hermione simply pushed the folder across the table, and with a light tap on the paper, stated; "Read.".

If it weren't for the acute knowledge that the smooth running of tonight's operation meant she wouldn't be taken out of the field, Bellatrix thought that she could think of a few more imaginative things she'd like to do with that file.

"Okay , you have four hours. Afterwards, the three of us will have a debrief and discuss your performance."

Bellatrix opened her mouth to object to the distinctly infantilising tone the agent continued to adopt, but before she could get any words out she felt a firm hand grab her arm and she was abruptly turned to face Hermione.

"Of course Caroline, Bellatrix will be back at the safe house for two-thirty, ready and waiting for a full download, won't you?"

The last word was punctuation with the younger agent locking eyes with Bellatrix and raising an eyebrow.

"You know, if your bosses wanted a trained labrador for an infiltrator they probably shouldn't have used a high security prison as their resource pool."

Bellatrix didn't bother to face Caroline, instead clenching her jaw hard enough to cause the muscles to flinch beneath her pale skin. Hermione recognised the anger rippling through the other woman, and taking a quick glance to ensure Caroline was busy at her laptop, she let her hand slide down to cover the assets clenched fist.

"Please, don't let this distract you, be safe Bellatrix. Okay?"

With an almost imperceptible flicker of her eyes towards their loosely intertwined fingers, Bellatrix let her eyes close for one, two beats, before opening them again and rolling her eyes to the ceiling, letting out a frustrated breath.

"See you at two-thirty, my Lords."

And with that, she was a blur of black fabric through the door frame which slightly reverberated with the force of her exit.

* * *

It was three AM and the women sat around the table in Bellatrix's dimly lit apartment. Hermione sat bolt upright on her chair, her forearms resting on the table and her hands perfectly stationary, clasped together.

Caroline was leaning back in her chair, legs crossed as she tilted her glasses a little further down her nose, scowling at the A4 document she had held in her hand.

Bellatrix, jaw still tightly clenched together and a frown becoming more and more pronounced, sat slumped forward on her chair, forearms resting on her thighs as she stared daggers at the older agent. Hermione was almost certain that if it weren't for her presence, Bellatrix's return to prison could have been guaranteed by morning.

"I got what you asked for. I've written you my report. I didn't break any of your precious protocols. Now will you please fuck off so I can sleep. Both of you."

Hermione allowed herself to tightly readjust the muscles in her neck, before turning to Caroline with a forced smile.

"What are your findings, Ma'am? Do you have any points you'd like me to look into more? Anything that you believe could have gone better?"

"Well, , whilst your asset's professionalism clearly needs to be worked on, the objectives of this evening were met and there is little here I can find fault with."

"However, Black, I'm making the recommendation that you're taken off active duty for the next three weeks. It would appear you're feeling the strain of fieldwork and I won't allow that to cause issues for the agency."

Before Hermione could lean forward to respond, the scrape of Bellatrix's chair made an early announcement of her displeasure.

"What?! Why? I've done exactly as you asked! Do you know - can you even imagine - how crushingly boring you imbeciles have made my life?! If you take me off duty, what do you suppose I do with my time? Watch more day time TV? Think myself into a coma?! Fine. Keep me locked up in this house for three weeks and see jus-"

"Enough, Bellatrix."

Hermione's fists we're now white at the knuckles from the force in which they held each other atop the table, their pressure trying to appease the myriad of ways in which her brain was imaging the scene in front of her unfolding.

Caroline, adding fuel to Bellatrix's rage, simply stood up and began packing her laptop and papers away.

"Yes, . Enough. It's far too early in the morning for such theatrics. You'll be grateful we're not simply pulling the plug and returning you back to the cell we plucked you from."

With this, Hermione grimaced slightly as she stood up from her chair, walking around the table to try to casually insert her body between Bellatrix and the infuriating older agent.

"Yes, I'm sure she is. Is that everything Caroline? Please do give me a call if you need any follow ups. I'll pop into the office tomorrow to go through Bellatrix's sabbatical paperwork."

"Very well , I'll see myself out."

There was a moment of eerie silence before all hell broke loose.

"Fucking _cunt_ -"

Bellatrix's scream clashed with the sound of the door clattering in its frame as Caroline exited.

" - I am not some pathetic, sad creature to be locked in a cage an-"

Bellatrix was cut off by Hermione quickly moving towards her, leaving no time for words before drawing their lips together in a bruising kiss. The younger woman threaded her hands through black hair, tilting her down slightly so their foreheads could rest together.

"Thank you."

Hermione exhaled the words with so much weight behind them that Bellatrix felt them fall across her own lips before they were heard.

"What?"

Bellatrix, whilst definitely finding no complaint with their current situation, was still struggling slightly to understand the rapid change in events.

"Thank you."

Hermione took a step back, but kept her hands cupping her pale face, her thumbs tracing the bones beneath sharp features.

"For not killing her, I mean. Or at the very least, not maiming her in some form."

"Oh. Well. Yes."

Bellatrix momentarily dropped eye contact from the brunette, feeling unexpected awkwardness falling over her limbs.

"I mean, I would have, you know. If it weren't for you. And well, being thrown back into a cell where I have to share with a woman who looks like a wild hog."

Hermione, despite her lack of sleep, despite the stress gathered in her muscles, and despite the ever present feeling of ensuing disaster, threw back her head, and laughed. Encouraged by the way this beautiful sound made the stress evaporate from the room and their bodies, Bellatrix found her own lips twitching in contagious levity.

"No but really, Hermione, as much as I wanted to watch those pretentious stupid glasses get embedded firmly into her skull, I was genuinely concerned you were about to cause complete lack of blood flow to both hands, you had them clenched so tightly. And we both know how much I appreciate you having two functioning hands..."

Bellatrix punctuated the words by lightly holding said hands in her own, and placing a chaste kiss on each.

"Well, Miss Black, let us go and put the hands you so nobly saved to good use them."

Whilst Bellatrix still wasn't entirely sure how she had gone from murderous to lustful in the space of a few minutes, she knew better than to waste time pondering such things when she was currently watching the younger woman stalk towards their bed, leaving a path of her clothes scattering the floor in her wake.

* * *

"Let's go somewhere."

Hermione opened one eye and frowned up at the woman she was currently lying on top of, head resting on her gently rising and falling chest and her hand lazily playing with the tangle of soft, black curls.

"Bellatrix..." Hermione let the name trail off in warning, "You know that's, well... complicated."

"Well, it's not _so _complicated, really." Bellatrix moved to sit upright in bed, her eyes tracing the newly exposed skin of the agent as the bed sheets fell from them.

"Think about it. We've got hours before my curfew, I'm allowed within a ten mile radius of central London, and you're the one who authorises all of my movements. So... I don't see a problem."

Hermione couldn't help by smile as she saw the older woman tilt her jaw up in a subtle challenge, eyebrow raised slightly.

"Yes, Bellatrix, I understand this. Believe it or not but I have actually received a small amount of training on the protocols of the agency."

She shuffled slightly to face the woman, holding the sheet up to cover her chest, which was more a comment on the temperature in the flat opposed to her level of comfort around the other woman.

"So…? What's the problem then? Let's go." Bellatrix, never one to ease into a decision, was already placing a bare foot on the cold wooden floor, when the agent reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"No, wait. It's not that simple. Yes, it's easy enough to get around the location protocols, but it not so easy to think up an explanation as to why I'm casually strolling around London with you when we bump into a colleague, or one of my friends, or one of the people you do business with. Be rational about this, Bella."

"Come on Hermione, we both know you'd struggle to fill a phone box with your friends -" Bellatrix let out a laugh as she ducked to avoid the agent's hand as it swatted at her shoulder.

"Okay, okay, I jest. But honestly, you worry too much. London is huge. We'll go somewhere South; we've both got no ties to Brixton, plus it's always that disgustingly busy we'll blend right in."

Hermione pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, frowning slightly. It was true, the chances of them being spotted were incredibly low, and even if they were, it wasn't going to be so difficult to explain away. Similarly, she could desperately do with some time away from the office and Bellatrix's flat. She was starting to think the past few weeks had all been some strange fever dream. And as much as it caused her a jolt of anxiety, she had to admit that the idea of walking around London with Bellatrix, as though they were just normal, everyday people, without the weight of hundreds of complications hanging over them, was incredibly appealing.

Hermione's trail of thought was effectively derailed when she felt the other woman's soft breasts press against her back, followed by her hand gently pulling her hair aside, and soft, wet kisses being pressed against her neck. Letting her lip fall from between her teeth, Hermione tilted her head to the side to allow more access.

"Cheat."

"Mm-hmm."

Hermione reached a hand back to tangle in dark curls, turning slightly to capture tantalising lips with her own. Bellatrix allowed the change in position and grinned into the kiss, pleased that her method of distraction had worked so perfectly.

"Bellatrix, I didn't know it was possible to actually _feel_ someone's smugness before I met you."

Hermione pulled back from the kiss and rolled her eyes in amusement at the other women, before pushing her back onto the bed and allowing the sheet to fall entirely from her body as she moved to straddle the still grinning woman.

"You know, _baby," _Hermione gave an arch of her eyebrow as the term of endearment, or perhaps challenge, purposefully fell from her lips, "it's really not polite to look so arrogant when you've got a very nearly naked woman straddling you." To express her point, she slowly ground her silk clad centre against the older woman.

"But, _darling_, that's exactly why I'm looking so arrogant."

Bellatrix lifted her hands to squeeze the woman's thighs that were pressed so perfectly over her hips, letting them trail up to rest on the curve of her waist.

"Hmm, let's see if we can turn that look into something a little more… humble."

And with that, she leant forward, feeling Bellatrix exhale against her lips as Hermione's breasts pressed against her own, before opening her mouth and allowing the agent to give her the most obscenely filthy kiss that she, quite frankly, hadn't thought the younger woman had in her. As the brunette poured all her frustrations of the past few weeks into thoroughly claiming the woman beneath her, she groaned as Bellatrix grabbed at her hips and set a slow, delicious pace for her to grind slowly against.

Hazily remembering that the way events were currently going would do absolutely nothing to shake Bellatrix's perpetual state of arrogance, Hermione pulled back from the other woman, sitting upright and bringing her thumb up to trace the wetness from the older woman's full lower lip. Enjoying how the moisture clung to the pad of her skin, she groaning slightly as she dipped into the warmth of her waiting mouth and watched as Bellatrix caught the digit between her teeth and traced the tip with her tongue, dark eyes staring up at her in challenge.

Hermione retracted her thumb, trailing a wet line down between the older woman's full breasts until she bought her hand up to drag through her own thoroughly mussed hair.

"You're so fucking beautiful."

Hermione hadn't really meant for the words to fall softly from her lips, but had been so distracted by the exquisite woman lying beneath her that she hadn't really had the focus or inclination to censor herself. Bellatrix's eyes widened ever so slightly, clearly having been caught slightly off guard by the sudden vulnerability of the agent's words.

Hermione expression softened into a gentle smile, as she realised that she had inadvertently managed to knock the arrogant smirk from the woman's face with just four words, but decided that for now, she'd keep this realisation to herself.

"So... I'm going to make you cum so hard you see stars, and then we're going to spend the day pretending we're two normal people, and after that we can worry about everything else. Okay?"

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow as she observed the woman with a look that said she was both impressed and completely supportive of the agents sudden confidence, before losing track of her trail of thought as she tilted her head back in ecstasy as the hot, wet mouth of her lover made contact with her core.

* * *

"I didn't really have you down as the gallery type."

Hermione was walking a few steps in front of the darker woman, head tilted upwards slightly as she took in the large, moody paintings hanging on the wall of the sparse, white gallery.

"What, you thought my only interests were semi-automatic rifles and cocaine?"

The agent didn't have to see her face to know the teasing expression that would currently be directed towards her.

"Well, yes, actually. Hey – this is Nizhny Novgorod, right?" Hermione stopped in front of a large oil painting, lines of blacks and greys forming a striking image of the beautiful Russian city.

"_Yes, that's the Volga river. You've been to Nizhny?" _

Hermione couldn't help the warmth that spread through her chest as she listened to Bellatrix respond in Russian. Somehow, it felt more intimate than anything else they'd done in the past twenty-four hours.

"_I stayed there for a few weeks when I lived in Moscow. I liked it. It felt more peaceful. I read that you grew up here…?"_

Hermione felt a little uncomfortable bringing up information she'd read in Bellatrix's file, but she really did want to know more about her previous life.

"_Yes. I spent a while there when I was younger. It's a kinder place to be a street kid in compared with some of the other cities. I actually kind of hated having to move to Moscow, but that's where the business was. It was too loud, the people were shitty, and I missed being able to disappear into the forest for a while when things got messy."_

Hermione simultaneously did and didn't want to know what Bellatrix meant when she used the word 'messy'. She tucked this away for a later date, content for now to just listen to the older woman talk so freely about her life.

"_Would you ever go back? To Russia, I mean."_

The agent studied Bellatrix, as Bellatrix studied the painting.

"_When I've paid my debt to the idiotic British government, the last thing I want to do is move back to a country where the security services are even more aggravating than Mi5." _Bellatrix moved to look at Hermione,_ "No offence."_

"_None taken." _

Hermione smiled, the weight of sadness lingering a little in her eyes. With a tokenistic glance around her, she shifted slightly towards the darker woman, brushing her hand against the other woman's fingers and noticing the weight lift slightly when she felt fingers intertwine more firmly with her own.

"_Your accent needs some work. You sound like Mary Poppins trying to imitate Putin."_

Hermione gasped in faux offence and bumped her shoulder against the other woman. They both turned back to the painting, taking a few moments to soak it in, before moving on to the next.

* * *

"Let's walk back. We've got time."

Hermione had her hands pressed firmly into her coat, the February air getting harsher now the sun had set.

"Hermione, it'll take at least two hours – it's freezing!"

"I thought you were a big bad Russian, how come you're scared of a little cold?"

"I'm technically British, as you full well know, so, I reserve the right to moan about the weather at any given time. Plus, I can't feel my hands."

Hermione turned to face the woman, moving them both a little back from the pavement so as to avoid the various people rushing back and forth around them.

"Oh baby_, _why didn't you say your little hands were cold?!" Hermione grinned as the intentionally aggravating sentence had its intended effect. Bellatrix's scowl deepened as she mumbled something unintelligible but definitely deeply offensive, and moved to walk off.

"I'm joking, I'm joking, don't kill me. Here -" Hermione laughed as she pulled her own hands out of her pockets, taking the clenched and icy fists of the other women into here own, and bringing them to her lips, blowing a gentle stream of hot air over them before placing a kiss on each.

"I want to walk back because I want to spend as long as possible not thinking about everything we have to do once we step back in to reality."

"I don't understand why we must view reality as being undercover intelligence agents in a crappy safe house where I'm unable to leave the flat past eleven, and you're technically at risk of getting verbally and perhaps physically assaulted by Caroline should she ever walk in on you doing that amazing thing you did to me with your tongue earlier." Bellatrix grumbled, despite the slight smirk she couldn't suppress at Hermione's blush.

"Because, as you've pointed out before, we didn't pick the normal path in life, and now we have to live with the rules we were complicit in choosing."

"Now," Hermione pulled the darker woman closer towards her, taking both of her hands and guiding them inside her coat, shivering slightly as the cool flesh made contact with the material of her shirt, "we can talk about this later, for now, I just want you, and London, and maybe a coffee for the walk home. Okay?"

Bellatrix's hand curved further around the agents back, then moved lower until they rested with fingers tucked into the waistband of her jeans, grinning slightly as she felt the other woman's muscle clench in response to the cold skin.

"Okay."

She lent forward and placed her cold lips against Hermione's warm ones, feeling a strange mixture of peace and panic clash within her body as the smaller agent melted slightly against her.

* * *

Hermione had never been one for lazy mornings. This had been a bone of contention for a number of past lovers; it seemed that they interpreted her desire to start the day efficiently as some form of personal rejection. She'd never been able to fully understand it.

However, here she was, on a Wednesday morning, sitting upright in bed with her laptop balancing on her legs, completely distracted by the darker woman who sat cradled in the old arm chair in the far corner of the room. Bellatrix's dressing gown was splayed open to display smooth, pale legs, which bobbed up and down gently as they rested over the side of one of the arms. Her pen tapped distractedly on her lower lip as she occasionally filled in a square on her sudoku.

Hermione thought that she could quite happily shut her laptop and spend the whole morning simply watching the other woman in such a rare display of calm.

"Darling, if you carry on staring at me I'm going to be forced to start charging."

Bellatrix looked at the younger agent with an amused expression. She'd noticed that the other woman had a habit of carefully watching her as she went about doing the most mundane things. Initially, she'd found it a little irritating, the feel of her gaze putting her on edge. However, she'd slowly started to acclimatise, until the habit now caused her to feel nothing more than fondness for the brunette's little quirks.

"Sorry." Hermione scrunched her nose slightly in a half-hearted apology. "While I've got your attention though – Caroline sent an email this morning. She's put an intelligence request in for us, so it looks like your little holiday is being cut short. As of Friday, we're back on full duties."

"Finally the old bat's done something that's not completely tyrannical. Pray tell, what delights has she got in mind for my Friday night? Tequila with Adrian and the boys? Locate her some shitty pen knife being shipped from Colombia?"

"Bellatrix…" Hermione raised an eyebrow at the other woman's overly dramatic outburst. "Nothing quite that exciting I'm afraid, just a basic intel dive into some Russian arms import/export racket in Rostov-on-Don. Anton Schukin and Rodolphus Lestrange – I'll admit I'm curious as to how he's stayed so under the radar with a name like that in Southern Russian. Apparently we've intercepted some Russian arms in Hong Kong and the powers that be are on edge."

Hermione was too busy skimming through the attachments Caroline had sent to notice that Bellatrix had frozen in place, her attention only caught when the older woman hissed as boiling water from the kettle spilled over the edge of her mug and began to pool onto the kitchen counter-top.

"Fuck."

Bellatrix slammed the kettle back onto it's stand and moved to mop up the water, flicking the remnants of boiling water off her fingers as though the movement would somehow rid her of the lingering burns.

"Here, let me..." Hermione moved quickly towards her, taking the cloth from her hand and motioning her towards the sink. "Run that under cold water, please."

Bellatrix didn't respond, but moved towards the sink and turned on the tap.

"Did you manage to hear what I said before you decided to pour water over yourself?"

Hermione smirked at the other woman, but a frown quickly formed as she realised the darker woman was simply standing in front of the running water, eyes focused on the swirl it made as it drained down the plug, her pink tinged fingers laying limply at her side.

Hermione placed the cloth back over the handle of the oven and moved towards the other woman, picking up her wrist and moving the burnt hand under the stream of cold water.

"Bella?"


	3. Chapter 3

Frustrated, but not surprised, Hermione had failed to get Bellatrix to provide any further insight into the sudden and complete lock down that had happened the previous morning. Her attempts had simply contributed to both the ferocity and strength of the other woman's defences.

For the first time in two weeks, Hermione had returned to her own flat and spent most of the evening pacing the periphery of the living room, whilst flicking restlessly through every file and report she could find on Anton and Rodolphus.

Seeds of doubt had been planted months ago, and had now grown into vines of confusion and curiosity that wound their way around her thoughts. Hermione was now certain than the initial reports and timelines she'd been given on Bellatrix were, if not actively wrong, at the very least missing huge parts..

Hermione had concluded that Bellatrix's propensity towards performing madness was not simply for her own entertainment or as a method of self-defence against prying forces. Instead, it had the rather convenient side effect, or perhaps primary goal, of deflecting attention away from the rationality behind the choices and trajectories she'd made. It was, as expected, easier to explain away behaviours by resting them on the shoulders of a destructive personality.

Bellatrix had, after all, spent the first few months of their professional relationship performing such behaviours. She'd physically harmed both herself and others, she'd ranted and raved about everything and nothing until her throat gave out, she'd tried every trick imaginable to crack Hermione's composure. It was only when a reticent trust had formed that this stopped, a trust which was built on what Hermione had known would be needed from day one; she had never pressed Bellatrix for reasons or explanations. She'd never asked anything of the other woman, bar that she deliver the goals of their assignments and didn't unnecessarily endanger herself or the agency.

The agent, still pacing back and forth on the cold wood of her living room, squeezed her eyes shut in frustrated defeat. This was it. This was the catch. Sure, sexual relationships between assets and handlers weren't encouraged, but they weren't exactly forbidden. As an asset didn't fall under the direct employment of the government, they remained outside of Civil Service protocol. Similarly, it was universally acknowledged within the Unit that sometimes creating trust, relieving stress, and the fundamental nature of intelligence field work could result in such connections forming.

However, Hermione was only now allowing herself to face up to the fact that this… connection, which had grown between the two woman had created a fatal flaw in her initial strategy for their working relationship. Now, Hermione realised, she didn't just want to find out the source of Bellatrix's current lock down because she needed to ensure the deployment ran without unexpected surprises. In fact, worryingly, this was possibly the last point on her current list of concerns. She wanted to find out the cause of Bellatrix's distress because she wanted to sooth it. She wanted to know what, or who, had happened to cause such an intense reaction in the usually very put together woman. And once she found out the source, she wanted to stop it from causing any further harm.

And this, Hermione thought, was a problem.

* * *

"You need to leave. Now."

"I've left you alone for fourty-eight hours Bellatrix. Whilst I would love to be able to respect your request for time, we simply don't have any to spare. I've got Caroline breathing down my neck for an update. I can't put her off for much longer."

"Hermione, if you don't walk out of that door in the next ten seconds I swear to god I'm not above forcing you through it."

Hermione set her jaw and took a deep breath. She was sat resolutely at the table, hands clenched more tightly than she would have liked on top of it.

"Yes, you have mentioned that a few times."

Hermione let the silence stretch out, the sound of Bellatrix pacing back and forth the only marker of time passing around them. Closing her eyes in frustration as Bellatrix forcefully kicked one of the old wooden chairs and sharply exhaling as she heard, rather than saw, the wood splinter against the wall, she decided that her current tactic of calm silence wasn't working.

"Listen, Bellatrix. You – _we_ – have two options here. One is to accept that you're content to fuck up this deployment and subsequently get yourself sent straight back to prison. The second is that you swallow whatever pride or discomfort is getting in the way of you dealing with this, and we figure out how we're going to complete this deployment, together."

Hermione walked over to where the darker women stood breathing heavily, regarding the pile of broken wood with intense eyes.

"So? What's your choice going to be?"

The agent reached forward and gently grasped the other woman by the arm, pulling slightly in an attempt to get her to make eye contact.

"I _told _you -" Bellatrix had moved so suddenly the brunette hadn't had time to fully process the action before she found herself held against the wall, harsh fingers holding her face in place as black eyes bore into her own, "to fucking _leave. _I'm done. I'm not doing this. And _we're_ sure as hell not doing this."

Hermione's composure was beginning to slip, frustration and concern battling with the ease in which calm usually came to her.

"Get off me, Bellatrix." Her words were punctuated by her own hand coming up to rip the other woman's hand from her face.

"What? You're not enjoying this, baby?" The slightly glint of glee which danced in the other woman's gaze unsettled Hermione more than their current combative stance.

"But I thought that's why you liked me Hermione. A bit of excitement? A big, bad distraction from your boring life?"

"Fuck you, Bellatrix." Hermione shoved the other woman harshly, storming away from her and towards the large windows overlooking the street below them.

A few moments of silence settled, before Hermione reached to the side of the ashtray that sat on the windowsill and retrieved a cigarette from the packet discarded to the side of it. As she bought it to her lips and dragged her thumb down over the stiff wheel of the lighter, she turned to face the darker woman.

To her slight surprise, she found Bellatrix leaning with the back of her thighs against the table, and a mild smirk coupled with a raised eyebrow.

"Wow, I guess I've finally managed to get Miss Perfect to resort to… oh, what is it you usually call them… oh yes - 'filthy cancer sticks'." Bellatrix pushed herself forward from the table, stalking over to the agent and plucking the cigarette from her hand, bringing it up to her own lips and taking a drag.

"What? It's polite to share, Hermione."

* * *

Hermione's head tilted almost painfully back against the mattress, one hand reaching blindly out to the side of her in an attempt to find something to clench between her straining fingers.

"Fuck, don't stop. _Fuck_."

Hermione's other hand reached up and harshly threading in dark curls, pulling the woman's lips to crash against her own. She spread her legs wider, straining her hips in an attempt to get the perfect creature above her to drive even deeper into her with the dildo firmly strapped around her hips.

"Are you going to cum for me baby?"

Bellatrix dropped her head to the sweat slicked throat of the agent, words dripping into the brunette's ear between breathless thrusts. Her words were punctuated with a particularly sharp nip at the rapidly hammering pulse point beneath delicate skin.

"Please."

Hermione arched her back even further in response to the teeth being dragged over straining tendons. Attempting to pull the other woman back towards her, she groaned when she opened her eyes and saw the darker woman hovering over her, propped up on strong forearms either side of the agents head.

As she continued to thrust inside the other woman, she slowed slightly as she traced one hand over the prominent veins that ran below the delicate skin of the younger woman's neck. Black eyes shone as she slowed her hips even more, allowing the dildo to slide deep into the woman's core, using slow, intentional movements to grind the soft, wet leather of the harness against the other woman's clit.

"Do you know what I think, huh?" Bellatrix bent low, hand gently but firmly wrapping itself tighter around the agents neck as she bent low to whisper into her ear. "I think, as much as I love being inside you right now, it's the way your whole body strains towards me when you cum which I really, _really_ fucking love."

With her hand still wrapped firmly around the agents neck, but not so tight as to fully restrict, Bellatrix once again drew back from a searing kiss, waiting until the brunette's eyes flickered open and locked with her own before driving forcefully into the other woman, not stopped until the telltale signs of the woman coming undone beneath her had turned into limp limbs and soft, breathy moans.

Smirking with satisfaction at the lazy grin which spread across Hermione's face, Bellatrix quickly shook herself free of the harness and manoeuvred them under the duvet, noticing how the brunette's teeth had starter to chatter slightly at the cool air falling over sweat slicked skin.

"God, I can't even feel my legs right now." Hermione grinned as she buried her head into Bellatrix's neck, placing a soft kiss just behind her ear.

The two women lay in content, exhausted silence, Bellatrix tracing her fingers up and down the spine of the perfect woman who lay tucked against her.

"Why have you never asked me about them?"

"Huh?" Hermione, realising that she was on the verge of falling asleep, mumbled into the other woman's neck.

Bellatrix shifted slightly, moving so she was resting on her side, forcing the other woman into a similar position. Hermione, realising Bellatrix was clearly intent on discussing something, opened her eyes to meet dark, pensive orbs.

"These. You've never mention them." She bought Hermione's hand up to rest against the skin of her rib cage.

The agent finally understood what Bellatrix was referring to her, briefly pressing a soft kiss to her lips before lightly tracing her fingers across the scars that littered the older woman's skin, stretching across her rib cage before following their path across her back.

"I figured if you wanted to talk to me about them, you would. Was I wrong to wait?"

Hermione's heart, as it always did, contracted sharply when she allowed herself to think of someone or something treating the body she'd begun to think of as sacred with such violence.

"No, no. It's not that. It's just, people usually ask. Well, people _always _ask, actually." Bellatrix rolled her eyes to punctuate her words, before allowing them to close again against the soothing ministrations of the younger woman's hands. In truth, she hated people touching them. Or at least, touching them with such purpose. But somehow, when the fingers tracing them belong to the agent, warmth seemed to radiate from the harsh lines and settle somewhere deep inside her mind.

"Listen, Hermione." Bellatrix gently took the other woman's exploring hand into her own, lifting the knuckles to her lips and placing a soft kiss there, before sitting upright in bed and running a hand through mussed curls.

"I didn't intend to tell you this. Or anyone, to be honest. It's history, and it's in my past, and it's finished. Well, I thought it was, at least." A dark laugh fell from her lips, before she swung her legs out from under the duvet and stood up, wrapping a maroon dressing gown around her body before walking to look out of the window, watching people hurry along the pavements in the glow of orange street-light.

"I'm telling you this because I respect you, Hermione. Not because I care about some stupid deployment, or because I need some sort of hideous sympathy or something. Okay?"

Hermione was leaning back against the headboard of the bed, her eyes tracking the raven haired woman as she continued to watch the street below her.

"Okay." Hermione's soft voice seemed to drag the other woman from whatever thoughts she was currently dragging from her memories.

"Rodolphus Lestrange. He's my husband. I never took his name – the company liked to keep paper-trails to a minimum, for obvious reasons."

Hermione felt her hands tighten slightly against the crisp sheet of the duvet. She caught Bellatrix's eyes as they darted towards her to assess the impact of her words.

"I was a kid. I got involved with his family business, low-level stuff. I was basically a runner, moving around information and keeping my eye on the competition. Anyway, long story short, I was unlucky enough to catch his attention. He was a daddy's boy. Used to everyone bowing to his every wish. His dad let me stay at their family home for a few weeks when I'd got into some trouble and needed time to recover. Turns out Rodolphus mistook my complete disdain for flirting, and that, coupled with his dad's fondness for my work ethic, meant that we were engaged as soon as I turned sixteen. I haven't seen him for fifteen years. We parted on somewhat… unpleasant terms."

Hermione, acutely aware that whatever she said next would have a painfully important role in how the conversation would go, stepped out of bed. Throwing a thick blanket over her shoulders as she walked towards the darker woman, she could feel intense black eyes assessing her with each step.

"Thank you, for telling me, I mean. I know you don't owe me any of this information. So thank you for trusting me with it." She bought her hand up to cup the pale cheek that was bathed in the street-light from outside, placing a soft kiss to her lips.

"So. What are you thinking, then. What do you want to do next."

"I'm not going back to prison. I refuse to lose any more freedom because of that man."

"Good. I very much support that option." Hermione smiled softly, relieved when she saw the other woman roll her eyes slightly with a small smile of her own.

"I know his company inside-out. I spent nearly two decades working in it. And I know that the morons the agency has currently got me tracking won't have a clue about it. They're almost none existent specs of bacteria on the scale we're working with with the Lestrange company."

"Okay… so, what are you saying? That you want us to pass the assignment over to a different team…?"

"No. If anyone is going after him, it's going to be me."

Bellatrix was staring at Hermione with an intensity in her gaze that created an uneasy mix of fear and excitement within her.

"No, it's going to be _us_. We're in this together."

Bellatrix took several moment's to appraise the younger woman, before nodding her head once and moving to take a cigarette from the windowsill.

"Oh, and just one more, tiny thing."

Hermione arched an eyebrow, eyes tracking the cigarette as it glowed amber between her lover's lips.

"I have a sister, Narcissa. She lives in Russia, still. If we're going after Lestrange, we're going to need her help."

Hermione took a deep breath before furrowing her eyebrows in amused exhaustion.

"God, we need a better research department. They really did a hideous job in your background check."

Hermione took a moment to smile softly at the other woman, who was looking out of the window exhaling a deep cloud of smoke in as nonchalant a way as if she'd simply stated she'd order them some take-out food, rather than reveal both a hidden husband _and _sister.

"And we could probably do with Andromeda, too. She's my other sister. She lives in Berlin, work's for some charity or something. But she knows the trafficking routes through Europe like the back of her hand."

"Christ Bella, are there any other hidden relatives you want to tell me about?!"

Hermione reached over and plucked the cigarette from between the older woman's lips, taking a drag before stubbing it out and pulling the other woman back towards the bed.

"Let's sleep. I need to process all of this. Tomorrow, we'll start planning."

Bellatrix grinned at the other woman, a weird feeling of calm settling over her body despite the information she'd just revealed.

"Hmm, I could think of a few other things we could do before sleep, if you'd like."

Bellatrix pulled the younger woman until she rested on top of her, her hands trailing down her back until they rested on her soft, perfect ass, where she immediately pressed her fingers into the flesh and caused the woman above her to grind her hips down against the woman below her.

"Yes, I think I could definitely be convinced."

Hermione allowed herself to trace her thumb across the brow bone of the infuriating, stubborn, perfect woman, before leaning down and pressing their lips together.

* * *

**Reviews/Follows/etc all very much welcomed and appreciated.**


	4. Chapter 4

"So let me just make sure I've correctly identified all your points Miss Granger," Caroline lent back in her chair, pulling her glasses from her nose and dangling them over the weighty document Hermione had deposited on her desk the previous evening.

"What you seem to be suggesting, and please, correct me if I'm wrong, is that we – a British Intelligence Agency – legitimately and overtly employ a Russian arms dealer who is technically still serving a prison sentence."

Hermione couldn't help but swallow harshly as she lent forward in her chair, subconsciously mirroring the senior agent sitting across from her.

"Yes Ma'am, that is the core of it. However, if I may just reiterate the reasoning behind this strategy. As detailed, it's come to my attention that Bellatrix's background checks were a little… sparse. Following your request for information on the Lestrange company, Bellatrix has informed me that not only did she work for this company for the majority of her life, but she was heavily involved in the family, as well as the vast networks they utilise across Europe. This is… invaluable, quite frankly. The Lestrange company is huge, and, as of now, still completely untouchable. We have enough intel on them to fill a post-it."

Hermione's eyes flickered between Caroline's, attempting to figure out how her words were permeating. As always, Caroline's face displayed little more than bored disdain.

"Yes, Miss Granger. I am capable of both reading and processing information. I understand the situation."

"Yes Ma'am, of course. But with respect, if we want to access any of Bellatrix's intel potential, we're going to have to bring her in-house." Hermione fought the urge to wince slightly as she felt the annoyance pulse off the other agent.

"And why must I do that?"

"Because if you don't, she's refusing to cooperate and has accepted her return to prison to serve the rest of her sentence."

Hermione was almost certain that, at this moment in time, Caroline's gaze would have been enough to make even the angriest of lions think twice about attempting anything.

"She's no fool, Ma'am. She knows that if she travels to Russia and attempts any infiltration as an asset, should the overwhelming possibility of something going wrong actually happen, we would pack up our bags and disappear into the shadows before the blood had finished draining from her body. She knows that her chances of surviving this are vastly improved if she were a legitimate employee of the agency."

After a few tense moments, Caroline reclined in her chair, folding her glasses and placing them inside her jacket.

"And you, Hermione? What do you think."

Hermione almost tripped over the use of her first name as it left the agent's lips.

"I think, Ma'am, that we have two choices. The agency can either return her straight to prison and wave goodbye to any reasonable possibility of honing in on the Lestrange company, or you can bring her inside of the agency. I think it's important to remember that whilst formalising her working agreement with us might bring substantial benefits to Bellatrix, it also gives the agency a great deal of control over her movements and behaviours too. She knows that once she signs up to this, she can't simply disappear into the night without the entire agency tracking her down and throwing her right back into prison for treason. One could even say that this is simply a less… primitive, more bureaucratic form of the existing relationship the agency already has with Miss Black."

Hermione's finger was tapping a rhythm against the arm of her chair, the only outward sign that she was talking about anything other than the usual agency spiel.

"I take on board what you're saying, Miss Granger, but I hope you realise that this is a _highly _unusual, complex request. One that goes far above my pay-grade. Primarily, my concern lies in legitimising Bellatrix's claims. I'm going to send off your report to our vetting team and attempt to verify some of this information. Then, I will see what the senior leadership board says."

The younger agent nodded firmly in acknowledgement, more than happy at the imminent opportunity to exit the tense conversation.

"Yes Ma'am, I understand. Please do let me know if you need any further information to assist in the process."

"Very well, I will be in touch."

Hermione acknowledged the finality of the statement as approval to leave, but before she could open the door, Caroline's cool voice froze her in place.

"Oh, and Miss Granger, as you are clearly already aware, the agency will turn a blind eye to certain… behaviours between it's employees, if felt to be beneficial to our cause. However, if we begin to feel, for even the briefest of moments, that your activities with Miss Black are impacting any work in a negative way, you will both be out of the organisation faster than you can blink. Understood?"

Hermione felt her palms prickle, her grip on the door handle becoming slick as she attempted to turn it.

"Yes, Ma'am. Understood."

Much to her frustration, Hermione was unable to meet the woman's gaze as she hastily exited the office.

* * *

"So… what do I do now? Should I start shopping for one of those awful suits you agents seem to like to wear?" Bellatrix threw a smirk at the younger woman, her breath visible as it left her lips in the cold February air.

"Bella, I told you. This is by no means arranged yet. It's going to take at least a few days for them to verify the information you gave, and then they've got to take it to the board to decide." Hermione was walking even faster than usual through the busy streets of Hackney, seemingly having forgotten her initial intention to take a nice, relaxing walk through the city to clear both of their minds.

"Yes, yes, I know, you said; boring paperwork stuff." The dark haired woman was having to almost jog to keep up with the rapid pace of the agent. "Bloody hell Hermione, slow down a bit, I know you want me to quit smoking but there are more humane ways than causing an asthma attack."

Bellatrix closed the small distance between them by grabbing the woman's arm, begrudgingly acknowledging that she was clearly going to have to engage in some sort of annoyingly formal discussion so as to allow the agent to relieve whatever anxieties were currently causing her distracted mood.

"Here, let me buy you a coffee." She dragged the other woman into a nearby coffee shop, feeling both her own and the agents body relax slightly as the warm air cocooned their frozen skin.

"Go sit down, I'll get you that monstrosity with almond milk you like."

Despite her dark mood, Hermione gave a genuine chuckle as the other woman arched a challenging eyebrow in her direction, before stalking towards the counter to no-doubt terrorise the waiter with her snide comments about the hipster beverages on offer.

As the woman wound her way through the cafe back towards the agent, Hermione opened her mouth to protest when she felt Bellatrix disregard the bench opposite her and instead slide in next to her, placing two cups on the table before throwing an arm around her shoulder and removing any trace of space between them.

"Bella… this isn't wise. Anyone could walk in -"

"Hermione, from what you've told me, Caroline already knows we're fucking and doesn't care as long as we don't accidentally hand over a container of AK's to the Ukrainians. You're allowed to just do things that feel nice sometimes. Stop worrying so much."

Hermione closed both her eyes and inhaled deeply, moving her hand across her face before pressing fingers tightly into her temples.

"I know, you're right. It just feel strange, I guess."

"What? Drinking this muck with a Russian arms dealer in this pretentious cafe, or allowing yourself to, you know, enjoy life a bit?" Bellatrix softened her words by placing a hand on the agents thigh, squeezing slightly to force the other woman to open her eyes and relax her posture.

"Both, I guess."

Pulling the brunette a little tighter into her side, Bellatrix rolled her eyes in faux exasperation.

"Drink your awful coffee darling, we'll worry about the other stuff once we know what the big bad bosses have to say."

The two woman sat in comfortable silence, Bellatrix throwing out the occasional snide remark about the strange spectrum of human that frequented the establishments of Hackney, which helped to ease the weight from Hermione's shoulders. In between gentle laughter, Hermione found herself thinking about how nice it felt to spend time around someone that, albeit from a slightly different perspective, understood both the weight and the weightlessness of her life. Everything with Bellatrix felt so much more grounded in the agents reality; there was no need for elaborate lies and side steps around her work, she never felt the need to suppress exasperation or resentment at stupidly naive statements around politics, or society, or what a 'normal' life should look like. The agent had never really pondered how these things actually mattered to her in such a fundamental way, and how distinctly lacking most of her other connections in life were due to their absence.

She was pulled from her thoughts by Bellatrix's hand squeezing her thigh gently, nodding her head towards two horrifically familiar people who had just entered the cafe, "What do you think – brother and sister, or weird ginger sibling-kink relationship gone wrong?"

Hermione was barely able to prevent herself choking on her coffee in response to Bellatrix's inappropriate comment, as she watched in what felt like slow-motion as her two friends looked around the cafe and locked eyes with her own.

"Ohhh fuck."

Bellatrix's brow furrowed in confusion at the unfolding scene before her, barely registering the brunette's words before the strangest smile was plastered over the agent's features.

"Do not say a _word_ Bellatrix." The agent hissed out through the slightly deranged grin that was still being energetically pointed towards the approaching red heads.

Bellatrix, the puzzle pieces slotting into place, couldn't help but shuffle slightly in her seat, ensuring she was nice and comfortable in order to watch whatever scene was about to unfold before her.

"Hermione! Christ, we thought you'd emigrated. Where the hell have you been?!"

Ginny lent over the table, placing two kisses on Hermione's cheeks before making room for Ron to move past her and place their two coffees down on the table.

"Bloody hell Hermione, we were on the verge of sending out a search team. It's been months! Harry and I went to your flat last week but you weren't in – we only knew you were alive because your neighbour told us she'd seen you occasionally."

Bellatrix slowly glanced between the three friends, tilting her head expectedly with the ghost of a smirk as she pointedly looked at the agent, along with the other two, clearly waiting for some grand explanation.

"I... - god, yes, I know, I've been awful! Even worse than usual. I am _so _sorry guys! You know what I'm like. I've been meaning to message you all for weeks but work has been absolutely crazy – you know how it is – Brexit has everyone running around like headless chickens."

"Hmm, we know you're some high flying Civil Servant Hermione, but I'm pretty sure even the Prime Minister has time to send a message every now and then."

Ginny and Ron had settled into the bench opposite the two woman, Ginny pointedly staring at Hermione with a raised eyebrow, whilst Ron seemed to have been distracted by the raven haired woman next to her. His eyes flickered down to the hand that lay wrapped around the brunette's shoulder, before blushing heavily when dark orbs caught his eyes in a challenging gaze.

"Are you going to introduce me to your friends, darling?" Hermione's attention was dragged from Ginny's disapproving glare, meeting with Bellatrix's faux innocent expression and feeling the distinct need to shove the other women for the clear glee dancing in her eyes.

"Yes, right, sorry. Ron, Ginny – this is Bel-Beatrice. Beatrice. _Beatrice_ these are my friends, Ron and Ginny. They're siblings. I spent a lot of time at their home as a kid."

"Oh, Ron and Ginny! So lovely to meet you finally, Hermione has told me so much about you. And please, call me Bea, all my friends do, and any friend of Hermione is a friend of mine. Isn't that right, babe?"

Hermione's eyebrows creased towards each other as she let out the most pathetic attempt at a laugh she had ever heard.

Whilst Ron was still busy trying to appraise the darker woman without attracting her glare, Ginny was switching between looking at both women with a mildly suspicious expression.

"Nice to meet you. Unfortunately, I can't say Hermione's told us a thing about you." Ginny arched an eyebrow at Hermione, feeling a little satisfied that the brunette at least had the courtesy to look sheepish. "Hermione, when were you planning on telling us you were seeing someone?"

"Oh I know, she's awful isn't she. I've been telling her to invite you all over for dinner for weeks!"

Bellatrix let out a laugh which to Hermione's ears, sounded so much like a sarcastic caricature of a 1950's housewife she wasn't sure how the entire cafe wasn't looking at them in confusion.

"_Darling, _would you mind just going to get me a refill. I think I owe these two an explanation for my absence."

Hermione placed her hand on Bellatrix's thigh and squeezed just a little bit too harshly to be construed as anything other than a warning. Feeling satisfied that she'd had enough fun, and not wanting to put herself too firmly in the dog house, Bellatrix waltzed from the table with a saccharine smile and assurances she would see the two siblings again _really _soon.

"She seems… different?"

Hermione couldn't help but burst out in unexpected laughter at Ron's comment, largely because of the slightly scared look that lingered in his gaze after his confusing interaction with the raven haired woman.

"Yes, yes she is a little. But enough about that, tell me what you've both been doing over the past few weeks! I'm sure it's far more exciting than anything I have to offer."

Hermione settled back in the booth, a little more relaxed now she was satisfied Bellatrix had fulfilled her seemingly fundamental need to cause at least a little chaos no matter what arena she was participating in. As much as she felt thrown off balance having had the two siblings unexpectedly appear before her, the agent was incredibly happy to see her friends again. They were right, she had left it far too long. Being a consistent friend had never come easy to Hermione, and she fully accepted the slightly barbed comments that were aimed at her whenever she finally reappeared from whatever anti-social cave had distracted her.

The three friends chatted animatedly within the warmth of the cafe, Hermione occasionally glancing behind her, smiling as she noticed that despite the enjoyment the darker woman derived from putting her in slightly uncomfortable situations, she was now sitting on the chairs outside the cafe, watching the world unfold before her on the busy streets, with a cigarette dangling from between her fingers and steaming coffee held between her thighs.

"Right, as much as I'm reticent to let you disappear off into the night again Hermione, I'm afraid Ron and I have an appointment with some hideous tailor – Mum's once again turned into some sort of fascist over Bill's wedding planning. Speaking of, you're still coming right? I'm sure Mum would be happy to extend the invite to Beatrice too – you know how she likes to appraise everyone's life choices." Ginny rolled her eyes in amusement, standing up to pull her coat back on.

"Go on Hermione, you haven't seen the family or Harry for months. I think mum will hunt you down herself if you don't show."

Hermione could feel the slight panic that must be present in her eyes – the truth was, she didn't have a clue where she'd be next month. However, she couldn't exactly explain this.

"Um, sure, okay, I'll respond to the invite this evening. Again, I really am sorry for being so awful lately guys."

Taking pity at the genuine regret plastered across the brunette's face, both Ron and Ginny moved forward to warmly hug her goodbye, assuring her that whilst they weren't exactly happy with the situation, they did understand that it was completely without malice or intention.

Once the siblings had stepped back on to the busy street, Hermione exhaled deeply as she dropped back down on to the bench, feeling somehow more exhausted now than she had following her meeting with Caroline. She allowed her eyes to close as she focused on breathing in and out.

"Well, that was fun." Hermione felt, rather than saw, Bellatrix sit down next to her. With an overly dramatic groan, she allowed herself to slump into the side of the older woman, not bothering to open her eyes even when the other woman laughed lightly.

"I thought I was meant to be the one with a flare for dramatics," Bellatrix kissed the top of the brunette's head where it lay hidden in the thick collar of her coat. "Come on, let's go back."

As Bellatrix helped the other woman into her coat and they moved towards the door of the crowded cafe, Hermione suddenly blurted out, "Come back to my flat with me."

Bellatrix lowered her chin to bury in the warmth of her scarf as the cold air of the street wrapped around them.

"I thought that was top on your list of very-bad-things we definitely shouldn't do in case Caroline gets us both assassinated?" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow at the younger woman.

"Yes, well, if they gave you a flat with proper heating and less mould growing on the walls, perhaps I'd be more inclined to agree."

Bellatrix stayed in place, eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the slightly shivering younger woman.

"And this isn't some weird attempt at self-sabotage that you're going to shout at me for allowing by tomorrow?"

"Oh come on, I'm not that bad. Plus, as you said, we're not explicitly breaking any rules, and I can authorise your change of home address for just one evening. If anyone challenges it, I'll explain that we can't reasonably be expected to work on strategy when I can barely feel my fingers in your damp flat."

"Hmm, I don't know, you seemed able to use your fingers pretty well the past few weeks..." Bellatrix smirked, pre-emptively moving her shoulder away from Hermione's incoming shove.

"Okay, okay, you don't need to convince me – I bloody hate that flat. Just don't blame me if you have to drag me back into it tomorrow, kicking and screaming." Bellatrix turned swiftly, strolling purposefully towards the overground station.

* * *

"Remind me again why you've actively chosen to spend the past few months practically living in my sorry excuse for a flat when you've had this sitting empty, waiting for you…?"

Bellatrix shrugged off her coat as she strolled through the hallway into the living room, with the misplaced but nonetheless predictable air of someone arriving home, opposed to a guest visiting a new place for the first time.

Hermione followed the other woman into the flat, hanging her coat on the rack and flicking the lights on, soft warm light flooding the property.

Hermione had never really had much need to ponder her home, she'd always spent so little time here it had become an almost subconscious part of her routine. But yes, she fully acknowledged she was incredibly lucky to own a property in central London, and despite her extended periods of absence, she had still manage to leave her mark on it.

Bookshelves covered many of the walls, Hermione having always found comfort in the physical presence of books despite doing most of her work on electronics. Similarly, the furniture was soft and rich, a mixture of woods and leathers. Her favourite place in the whole apartment had always been the large window seat that stretched out beneath the huge bay windows that covered almost an entire wall of the living room. Well, perhaps this feature tied first place with the bathroom. The only thing Hermione had been really insistent on when moving into the property was the presence of a huge, deep bath. The agent had attended boarding school for most of her childhood, and had deeply resented the fact she'd consistently had to share a shower block with hundreds of other students. As an adult, she was now able to fully appreciate the intense calm a very long, very hot bath could bring.

Hermione headed into the kitchen, the open plan nature of the flat giving her a clear view of Bellatrix as she sank down into a large leather reading chair, the glow from the lamp that stood next to it casting half of her face in shadow. As Hermione filled the machine with whatever coffee she could find in the cupboard, she watched as the darker woman let her head fall back against the high back of the chair, a deep sigh falling from her lips. Hermione decided to leave the woman in peace while she waiting for the coffee to brew, simultaneously berating herself for how empty she'd allowed her cupboards to get.

"God, I've missed this."

Hermione let her gaze flicker to the woman, who remained seated, eyes shut, reclined in the chair.

Before she had chance to query this, Bellatrix continued. "Twelve years, Hermione. Twelve years of living in cold, disgusting, clinical cages. Having to read chewing gum stuck books in a shitty prison library to stop my brain completely rotting. Sleeping two feet away from a toilet I had to share with some hideous filthy creature."

Bellatrix's arms lay resting on the arms of the chair, her fingers tracing patterns over the soft leather.

Hermione wasn't exactly sure how to respond. She knew the other woman wouldn't appreciate pity, nor would she appreciate any rationalisation of the cause and effect of particular life choices. Luckily, it didn't seem that the older woman particularly needed a reply, as she continued to recline in the chair, her head now cradled in one hand where her elbow sat propped on the armrest. Her dark eyes, made even darker by the soft glow of the room, were once again open, and lazily tracked the agent as she began to walk back into the living room with two steaming cups of coffee.

"When my mother took me and my sisters to Russia, we had two suitcases between us, and spent the best part of five years sharing one tiny room in some damp Soviet concrete tower. When she died, we spent the next three years jumping between squats and derelict buildings, or the sofas of dirty old men who pretended they only wanted to help. I was thirteen when she died. Andromeda was eleven. Narcissa was only eight, Hermione."

Hermione was stood in front of where the other woman sat, her gaze focused somewhere far away. The agent placed the coffee on the table next to the chair and quickly lent down to place a kiss on dark, unruly curls, the other woman's arm distractedly moving to place a gentle hand on the back of the agent's thigh before once again resuming it's tracing of the leather chair.

"Why did your mum leave the UK?"

Hermione settled herself in the corner of the sofa which sat opposite the old reading chair, cradling the warm coffee in her hands.

"My dad. He wasn't the nicest of guys. I can't remember so much of it, really. But when Narcissa was born, I think she'd just had enough. After a while, continuous attempts to break a person either result in their complete eradication, or they have no choice but to rebuild and escape. My mother was Russian, so I assume it seemed like the safest option for getting as far away as possible. Unfortunately, she managed the escape part, but never really managed the rebuild. She'd lived a life so sheltered and indulged she had no clue how to raise three kids on her own, when the infinite tap of money magically disappeared. Let's just say she didn't last too long once she was out on her own."

Silence once again fell over the apartment, Hermione only breaking the stillness when she stood to draw the blinds. She walked over to the woman who had barely moved an inch from her position in the reading chair, reaching out to collect the empty mug from where it lay clasped in Bellatrix's hand, while the other moved to tuck loose curls behind her ear, eventually cupping the other woman's jaw and raising it slightly so dark orbs connected with her own lighter ones.

"I'm going to run a bath, okay? Feel free to come and join me when you're finished here; no rush."

Bellatrix tilted her head to the side, pressing her lips to Hermione's open palm, watching tiredly as the agent walked off towards the hallway.

* * *

It was six AM the following Saturday when Hermione finally received a call from Caroline, requesting that both herself and Bellatrix present themselves at an address just off Hyde Park Corner.

Bellatrix's response to the call had been as expected; a snide comment about the senior agent's personality - "_It's like receiving a wake up call from Mussolini_", followed by an attempt to seduce Hermione back to bed, followed by a dramatic sigh when her advances were rejected, and topped off with her pulling the duvet up over her head and resolutely ignoring all the brunette's attempts to engage her in conversation about the upcoming meeting.

"Bella, I'm calling us a taxi. You have fifteen minutes to remove yourself from bed and put some clothes on, otherwise you're about to have Mussolini herself banging on our door with a police car waiting to ship you off back to prison."

Hermione knew it was perhaps a little below the belt to refer to the possibility of Bellatrix's imminent return to prison in such a cold manner, but the agent had quickly realised that goading the older women into completing tasks was a far more effective manner than flattery or force.

As expected, the agents pointed comments had resulted in the dark haired woman abruptly throwing the covers from her, scowling, before what Hermione could only describe as _flouncing_ off towards the bathroom.

"Fifteen minutes Bella." Hermione shouted towards the other woman, almost certain that she could hear her over the sound of the shower and was simply choosing to ignore her.

The short ride to the meeting point was tense. Bellatrix, scowl still firmly fixed in place, was staring out of the window of the taxi, while the agent restlessly scrolled through her work emails. Having spent almost the entirety of the previous night wrapped around each other in the warmth of their bed, the enforced distance the older women had instigated between them was, despite her best efforts to feel otherwise, a little hurtful. She understood, of course. This was Bellatrix's way of trying to protect both herself and the agent. By trying to resolutely quash any display of emotion, Bellatrix seemed to be content to believe this meant said emotions subsequently ceased to exist. For a smart woman, Hermione thought, the dark haired woman could be distinctly pigheaded.

Both women exited the taxi, Bellatrix following a few steps behind the agent as the walked, somewhat morosely, towards the nondescript office block.

Having been buzzed into the block of seemingly empty offices, Hermione pulled Bellatrix by the arm and dragged her into a hidden corridor, one eye watching the door which she knew Caroline would be waiting behind.

Bellatrix opened her mouth to protest at having being somewhat roughly pulled into the dark corridor, but closed her mouth, clenching her jaw as she saw the determined look in the agent's eyes.

"Before you say it, I know. You don't want to do this here."

Hermione spoke in a hushed whisper, refusing to step out of the older woman's personal space.

"There's a very real chance that we walk into that office and only one of walks out, okay? And I get why you'd rather go back to prison than work for an agency that refuses to protect you. I'm not trying to change for mind."

Hermione took a deep breath, making no attempt to force Bellatrix to make eye contact, but still resolutely tracing every feature of the dark woman before her.

The silence stretched out a little longer, Hermione still darting her eyes towards the office at the end of the corridor.

With a frustrated breath, she stepped back a little from the other woman, the movement causing black orbs to finally flicker down to meet anxious hazel ones.

"Okay, so I hadn't actually planned what I wanted to say, this was kind of an off the cuff thing. But listen, Bellatrix, these past few months… It's been, well, I didn't think, or well, I didn't really know that I hadn't felt this way befo-"

Hermione's jumble of words were interrupted when she spotted Bellatrix's raised eyebrows and grin, the familiar light once again dancing through her eyes.

"Jesus Christ Hermione, for a spy you're pretty awful at improvising."

And with that, she stepped forward and placed her lips against the agents, her tongue running along the soft lower lip before she felt Hermione press into her, tilting her head slightly to allow the darker woman to deepen their kiss.

Once Bellatrix pulled back slightly, she placed a final kiss on the agent's forehead, before side stepping her and walking purposefully towards the door, not bothering to turn to see if Hermione was following.

* * *

**Thoughts, feelings, questions all welcome!**


	5. Chapter 5

"No."

Hermione reached up to place two freshly cleaned glasses back into the cupboard.

"But it's for the sake of professionalism, Hermione."

Bellatrix leant on the cool marble of the kitchen counter, watching Hermione with an amused glint in her eye.

"As I've told you multiple times, in a variety of different settings, and in response to your entire spectrum of tactics; nope."

Hermione smirked at the older woman's huff as she shooed her away from the cutlery drawer.

"Is it because you're annoyed Agent Black sounds so much better than Agent Granger?"

"No, Bella, it is _not_ that."

Hermione laughed as she reached up to place an exasperated kiss on the older woman's lips. "It's because we are not in some American movie on our way to blow up a helicopter full of terrorists."

"Urgh, why must you insist on spoiling my fun." The darker woman grasped her around the waist before she had chance to return to the washing up.

"Hmm, I'm pretty sure that what we've spent the past forty-eight hours doing can't be classed as me 'spoiling your fun'..." Hermione allowed the other woman to pull her closer, keeping her hands slightly raised so as not to drip soapy water on the other woman's black shirt.

"Well, I think we more than deserved that after having to sit through that excruciating meeting with Caroline and her band of merry men. I'm pretty sure she was expecting me to bow down and kiss her feet. Anyone would think she'd signed a check for a million quid, not bought me a one way ticket to Russia to freeze my ass off and participate in an awkward family reunion."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, her hands absent-mindedly running up and down Hermione's back as a slight scowl shadowed her features.

"I don't know Bellatrix, I think you communicated your feelings on the situation quite clearly; if she was before, she's definitely under no illusions now as to your thoughts on the matter in hand, plus the agency, her hair, her shoes, and oh yes, the suspected parental lineage of that guy with the briefcase whose job it was to remove your tracker."

Hermione raised a disapproving but amused eyebrow at the other woman, reaching up to place a kiss on the crease of her brow.

Taking the older woman's brief distraction as an opportunity to step backwards and resume the last of the washing up, Hermione resumed the mental check-list of things they needed to do before they flew to Moscow in ten days.

"I was thinking we should go to your flat this evening and collect the last of your things."

Hermione handed Bellatrix a large pan and gestured to the cupboard, turning back towards the sink before she could give her a chance to protest.

"Oh, you mean the three t-shirts and the ashtray I used to prop the broken window open? Yes, we should probably go now actually, I wouldn't want to risk someone breaking in..."

Bellatrix's words were mumbled more to herself, as she knelt on the floor and attempted to cram the pan into the cupboard.

"Then we're at the agency for the rest of the week, and we've got to find time to go to the documents department to get our ID's sorted, Caroline mentioned something about getting you weapons cleared too, but that shouldn't take too long. They also want you to take a Russian proficiency test, I did try to explain you're essentially a native speaker, but it's protocol I'm afraid." Hermione was now shouting as she tried to raise her voice above the sound of Bellatrix's attempts of destroying the entire cupboard of pots and pans.

Deciding to intervene before the kitchen unit fell apart, Hermione knelt down next to the other woman and grabbed hold of the pan before it was once against shoved blindly on top of an already mismatched pile of lids and pots. Despite Bellatrix's gut reaction to seize the pan back and continue on with her own method, the older woman decided this was a battle her ego to could probably deal with losing.

"Oh, I won't be here on Friday evening," Hermione, feeling an unexpected flutter of nerves shoot through her stomach, stood up to meet the other woman, "I've got a dinner party at Ron and Ginny's family home. I had to tell them I couldn't make the wedding and this was the only way I could salvage the situation."

"Sounds riveting." Bellatrix walked off towards the lounge, grabbing the book she'd left on the coffee table before slumping in what had quickly become her favourite seat.

"Mmm." Hermione didn't fully understand the mood that had stretched out between her and the other woman, but knew that is was distinctly frosty.

"I predict I'm in for a grilling about the mysterious Beatrice though. I think Molly might have pinged our sonar equipment, the pitch she was interrogating me at..." Hermione heard the rather weak laugh which left her mouth as she attempted to lighten the weight which had settled over the room.

"It's a good job Beatrice doesn't exist then." Bellatrix barely bothered to grunt out as she continued to scan the page in front of her.

Unsure as to how to proceed, Hermione distractedly rubbed at her collarbone, an angry red mark appearing on the pale skin. She moved to walk off towards the bedroom, but stopped in the doorway to the hallway, taking a pensive glance towards the still brooding woman.

"Would you… _want_ to come?" Hermione, much to her own frustration, found herself chewing distractedly at her lip.

"Nope." Bellatrix didn't bother to move her eyes from the book in front of her, punctuation the word with a turn of the page.

"Right." Hermione felt heat rush to her cheeks, not sure if anger or embarrassment took primary place.

* * *

Hermione stalked through Russell Square Gardens, feeling completely irrational satisfaction as a squirrel spotted her incoming presence and hastily darted off towards the hedgerow.

She'd finally settled on anger. She was angry at Bellatrix for being so cold when she'd clearly been offering some form of olive branch in regards to the resolutely ignored status of their relationship. She was also angry at the agency, which was even more of a pointless exercise. She was tired of missing weddings and birthdays and anniversaries. She was tired at having to look over her shoulder when walking through London with Bellatrix. And she was angry that their jobs made an already emotionally fucking exhausting situation even more complicated.

Hermione knew that in the best of scenarios, whatever she and Bellatrix were involved in would not be something simple and sweet. But bloody hell, throw in the fact they were both now intelligence agents about to be deployed to a country notorious for its homophobia, and then throw in the small further complications of a long-lost husband _and _two sisters - well, Hermione thought, there was little else that could have possibly been added in to make it any worse.

The truth was that Hermione really had no idea what was actually happening between her and Bellatrix.

Sure, they'd spent the vast majority of the last eight months together, the last month of which they'd spent sharing a bed. Bellatrix had told her information about her past. Hermione had welcomed the other woman into her home. But still, their working relationship could, Hermione rationalised, easily explain each of these developments. Maybe this was as Caroline had suggested; a simple side effect of the nature of their jobs. A way to relieve stress and find comfort with someone who understood the reality of her life.

Maybe this was the reason she couldn't shake the goddamn woman from her thoughts. Or the reason she'd spent this morning watching how the seven AM light moved its way across the shadows of the woman's features whilst she slept. Or, perhaps, the reason she wanted nothing more than to storm back to her flat and demand why the infuriating woman had acted like she couldn't give a fuck when Hermione had been bold enough to make the first few timid steps towards defining their relationship.

Maybe that was exactly it; the other woman really didn't give a fuck. She was just a convenient fuck while she served her time and was once again a free woman.

With an audible growl, Hermione continued her relentless pace through the streets of London, cutting across Oxford Street and tracing the back alleys into the heart of Soho.

Sure, the sun had barely set, but right now, Hermione really, _really, _needed a drink.

The agent sat in the corner of the bar she'd spent many nights in during her student days, grateful that the anonymity she'd revelled in as a student still provided the same, calming effect it had done before. It wasn't that Hermione had regularly frequented bars back then, but once every few weeks she'd found the only thing that could relieve the pressure that built up during her intense day-to-day life was the feel of red wine slowly blurring her usually painfully sharp thoughts, and the content, familial atmosphere the gay village in the heart of central London provided.

Sure, she'd built a small network of casual acquaintances she could chat to over a drink or two, but mostly she was content to simply sit in the shadowy corners of the bar and watch the world slowly unfold around her. And that's exactly what she planned to do this evening.

She was three glasses of wine in when she realised she was almost glaring at the two women sitting at the bar, easy laughter flowing between them, hands lingering on bare skin. Hermione guessed this was a first, possibly second date. She took another sip of her wine and glanced at her watch; eleven PM. Whilst she certainly felt more relaxed, she definitely didn't feel particularly happier. She was annoyed at herself for repeatedly wondering if the older woman was still sat in the reading chair in her lounge. She found herself itching for a cigarette, which for someone who had never bought a packet before in her life, could have only been the influence of a certain dark haired woman.

She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, rolling her eyes when she saw the name illuminated on her screen – _speak of the devil, _she thought.

"Yes?" Hermione placed her free hand against her other ear, the music of the bar making her already cloudy head even murkier.

"Where are you?"

"Out."

"Obviously. Where?"

"A bar. What do you want?"

"Nothing."

"Right, well, bye then."

After few seconds of silence passed, Hermione went to hang up the phone.

"Wait. Wait – listen, about befo-"

"I really, _really, _don't have the energy for this right now Bellatrix."

"I know I was kind of a-"

"Yes. You were."

Hermione's eyes fell on the two woman sitting at the bar, swallowing a little painfully when she saw how there hands lay tentatively together on the bar, fingers brushing together absent-mindedly.

"Jus-"

"I've got to go, Bellatrix."

Hermione hung up the phone, cutting off the other woman before she could formulate a response.

She gulped down the last of her wine a little faster than was strictly wise, stalking towards the bar and ordering herself a gin and tonic, resolutely ignoring the disgusting sweetness of the couple besides her.

* * *

Hermione had decided to walk back to her flat, the quietness of the usually crammed streets helping clear the undeniable haze that she'd created in her thoughts. As she walked past St. Pancras Station, she spent a few moments watching the clouds of her warm breath as they evaporated into the evening, the large, illuminated clock of the tower marking the slow passage of time.

She'd stayed in the bar until close, briefly contemplating heading to another before rationalising that this probably wasn't a great idea. Both a blessing and a curse, Hermione was unfailingly sensible no matter how much she, at times, wished otherwise.

Hermione struggled slightly trying to fit her key into the lock, eventually having to squeeze one eye shut to try and focus her sight in the harsh white light of the corridor. The truth was, she didn't know what to expect when she stepped foot in her apartment. She'd realised that now, Bellatrix had every right to go wherever she wanted, with whomever she wanted, and at whatever time she wanted. Hermione noted, with quiet relief, that rather than being a source of anxiety, she was ultimately relieved to be finally free of the uncomfortable power dynamic that had lingered over them.

Finally pushing her way into the apartment, she quickly dropped her coat, scarf, and bag onto the table by the door, deciding the tackle the coat rack at a later point. She walked towards the kitchen, clenching and unclenching her fists as the warmth of the flat slowly settled into her bones.

As she reached for a glass, she suddenly remembered that she'd momentarily forgotten about the source of her current intoxicated state. The cause of this sudden remembering lay reclined on the window seat, legs crossed at the ankles, quietly observing the somewhat clumsy presence that had flung its way into the previously silent apartment.

"Oh. It's you." The rather defunct statement fell from her lips before she could stop it.

"Mhmm." Bellatrix walked over to the brunette, taking the empty glass that was clutched uselessly in her hand, filling it with water.

"Good night?" She handed the cup to Hermione, before strolling back towards the window seat and resuming her leisurely position.

Hermione took a few sips of water, before leaning slightly to ease her shoes off, leaving them cast in the corner of the kitchen opposed to their usual place by the front door.

Deciding that she had neither the patience or the focus for their usual covert, confusing exchanges, Hermione somewhat stomped her way over to the dark haired woman, annoyed at the lack of decipherable emotion the other woman was exuding.

"I'm angry at you."

Hermione stared down at the other woman, watching as she sat upright and placed her feet on the floor, either side of where Hermione stood looming over her.

"I know you are, darling." To Hermione's confusion, the other woman looked up at her with a tired, frustrated expression.

"Huh?" Hermione responded ineloquently, thrown off guard by the unexpected sadness in her eyes, sadness that was alleviated slightly by the smirk that flashed across her face in response to the absence of the brunette's usual composure.

"I was a prat. I got annoyed, and I thought making you feel annoyed might make me feel a little better."

A few moments passed between them, Hermione contemplating the older woman.

"Bellatrix, for a smart woman, you've got the emotional processing skills of a toddler."

Bellatrix was still staring up at the brunette, allowing her dark curls to fall slightly over her face so she could maintain a sense that she was, at least a little, shielded.

"Why were you annoyed?" The brunette kept her eyes on the darker woman, not yet moving to touch her, but not moving away when the darker woman bought her hands up to hold the back of her thighs, pulling her closer to where she sat.

"Urgh, you're going to make me talk about this aren't you."

"Yep."

Bellatrix found herself scratching slightly at the denim that covered the brunette's thighs, only stopping the action when Hermione reached down to tuck black curls behind her ear.

"Primarily, I was annoyed because I understood the reality that _Beatrice_ could only ever be the person you take to dinner parties, or weddings, or coffee with the ginger idiots."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Bellatrix's inability to censor her words, even in the most intimate of discussions.

The brunette continued to work her way through dark curls, knowing that Bellatrix was hoping her explanation was over, but refusing to allow her to close up again so quickly.

Sensing that Hermione wasn't going to interject anytime soon, she continued, "Secondly, I was annoyed that I wanted to go to dinner parties, and weddings, and gross coffee dates with you. I was annoyed that I've been lying awake every night thinking about all the ways the venom of Rodolphus and his family is going to seep into your blood stream once we're deployed. I was, I _am_, annoyed that you've made your way behind my defences and set up home before I even really realised you'd become someone whom I care about."

Hermione, having not expected those words to spill from the other woman's lips, realised that whatever she'd been planning on saying to Bellatrix had completely vanished from her mind.

"You mean it?" Hermione's hazel eyes flickered between the steady gaze staring up at her.

"Yes, perhaps unfortunately for both of us, I do."

Hermione knelt in front of the other woman, bringing their lips together before the other woman had chance to predict the action. Resting her forehead against Bellatrix's, Hermione whispered against her lips, "I don't need any grand promises or declarations Bella. I understand the fucked up situation we're in. But I care about you. I care about how you feel, and what you do, and the implications your actions have on your future. Don't push me away because you're scared about wanting me, okay?"

Hermione felt the other woman's shoulders sag a little, a heavy breath ghosting over her lips as the older woman leant a little further into her.

Hermione continued to run her thumbs over pale cheekbones, smiling softly as she felt the other woman tilt her head slightly to seek out her lips.

After several minutes of steadily intensifying kisses, Bellatrix drew back, slightly breathless and with a raised, appraising eyebrow.

"Agent Granger… have you been smoking?!"

Hermione, eyes a little cloudy with lust, furrowed her brow in confusion before a red tinge creeped over her cheeks.

"No…?" Hermione's lie sounded weak even to her own ears.

"Hmm." Bellatrix inspected the brunette, hands still cradling her jaw as she tilted her own head to the side in an appraising manner.

"What! It's been a stressful day!" Hermione huffed in frustration, both at the distinct lack of kissing happening, and having been caught out by the other woman.

"Such a rebel. Next thing, you'll be smuggling weapons across Europe. Oh, wait..." Bellatrix grinned at Hermione, mock judgment in her voice.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the other woman's awful sense of humour, standing upright and holding out a hand in a gesture for the other woman to follow.

"Ugh, you're _so_ annoying, god knows why I'm so determined to keep you around."

Bellatrix quickly followed the brunette towards the bedroom, taking a large stride so she could press her body against the back of the younger woman, hands moving up the front of her body, under her shirt, before grabbing two full breasts, causing the agent to groan slightly as she allowed herself to melt into the woman's embrace.

"Hmm, I can think of a few reasons why you like having me around."

And with that, she removed her hands before practically dragging the other woman towards their large, soft bed.

* * *

The two women had spent the entire morning, afternoon, and evening hauled up in a windowless office, plotting out timelines and profiles to hand over to the intel development unit before they flew to Russia. Hermione would be arriving in Moscow a few days before Bellatrix, one of the many checks and balances put in place to minimise their chances of attracting any unwanted attention. Much to Hermione's added stress, Caroline had informed the two women that this deployment would _not_ be a joint deployment with the Russian security services, due to the agency's belief that the Lestrange company was involved in state sanctioned activities in Ukraine.

This meant fake names, fake documents, and, essentially, completely new identities.

Much to Bellatrix's overt and very verbal disapproval, it would be Hermione acting as primary field agent during deployment. Caroline had, with Hermione's support, stated that sending Bellatrix in would blow both her and Hermione's cover instantly, thus revealing both their true identities to the company, and the Russian government.

Instead, Bellatrix would be working behind the scenes, her primary goal being advising Hermione, keeping the agency updated, and making sure the other agent was equipped with everything she needed to ensure both the success of the deployment, and her own safety. There was also the small matter of re-establishing connection with her sisters, and somehow convincing them to provide their sizeable expertise. Bellatrix had been handed a file with fairly complete intel on both Narcissa and Andromeda, including their contact details and current living arrangements. Considering she hadn't had contact with either of them in years, she was silently grateful to know that they were both still very much alive and well.

Hermione would be establishing a relationship with the Lestrange company under the guise of working for a private security firm, a firm who had particular interest in moving a modest amount of weapons into Ukraine. A meeting had already been arranged for when she arrived in the country, existing agents on the ground in Russia utilising the intelligence Bellatrix had provided the week prior to establish contact.

"God, I feel like I've been punched in the brain."

Bellatrix leant back in her seat, lifting her arms above her head and arching her back, letting out a tired breath.

"I know, I'm sorry – I didn't think it'd take quite this long – we should have grabbed some food or something. Speaking of – how long until we have to be at the Weasley's?"

Hermione didn't raise her eyes from her laptop, the sound of her fingers flying across the keyboard the only noise reverberating around the otherwise quiet room.

"Mmmmm," Bellatrix squinted her eyes at the time illuminated on her phone, "that would be... eighteen minutes."

The screech of chair legs as they were propelled backwards provided the dark haired women with all the information she needed.

"WHAT. Eight- why didn't you say?! Christ, it's at least twenty minutes on the tube." Hermione slammed the laptop shut as she rushed around the room, cramming various bits of paper into random files. "God, Molly is going to murder me. Actual bodily harm. I hope you don't mind having a girlfriend with only fifty percent of her limbs."

Hermione was too busy throwing her coat on and launching Bellatrix's scarf across the room to notice the darker woman almost choke on her own tongue.

"Girlfriend?!" Bellatrix moved her head from left to right, tracking the agent as she erased the blue scribbles from the whiteboards which adorned the walls of the office.

"Urgh, Bellatrix! Yes, _girlfriend_. We really don't have time for this. Come _on_!" And with that, Hermione pulled the other woman by the arm, paying no attention to the shell shocked expression on her face as she practically dragged her out of the office.

* * *

Hermione glanced down at her watch as they made their way towards the front door, the orange light emanating from the windows causing a comforting warmth to fall over the otherwise dark pathway.

"Thank god we're only a few minutes late."

Hermione took a moment to rearrange her hair, turning towards the other woman and brushing her hands over the shoulders of the heavy black coat, stepping back a little to appraise her before turning and ringing the doorbell.

"Have you recovered from our little revelation earlier yet?" Hermione smirked as she continued to stare straight ahead, eyebrow raised in amusement as she thought back to Bellatrix's disgruntled mumblings as they weaved through the crowds in the underground.

Scowling at the fact she was clearly being made fun of by the younger woman, Bellatrix refused to dignify the question with an answer, instead tilting her jaw up slightly in a show of superiority.

"Oh come on baby," Hermione turned to face the other woman, rolling her eyes at the petulant expression, but laughing lightly at how sensitive the other woman could be at times. She reached towards her, gently guiding her proud, delicate mouth closer towards her own, until they were just centimetres apart, "I mean it could have been worse, I could have said I lo-"

Both women sprung apart as Mr Weasley, apron on and electronic chicken carver in hand, swung the door open and exclaimed in delight, "Brilliant to see you ladies! Do come in. Molly was about to send out the search party."

Bellatrix, completely overwhelmed by everything that she'd just encountered in the past thirty seconds, could do little more than open, then close, her mouth, furrow her brow, and look towards Hermione in a slightly lost daze, before blindly accepting her fate and following the younger woman into the warmth of the house.


End file.
